“All right, I hope, Squire!” he called out, as soon as he saw the anxious group at the door. “He opened his eyes just now and spoke; but he seems dazed-like still, and not quite himself. I’m half afeared there’s a bone broke somewhere; but, considering the distance he fell, we must thank God things are no worse.” He gave over his burden into the Squire’s arms, and Bertie was carried up-stairs and laid upon his own bed. Dr. Lighton and Mrs. Arbuthnot followed, and a look of keen interest was on the young doctor’s face as he noted that the child’s mother was beside him. Bertie was not entirely unconscious, but in a dazed state that made it an effort to open his eyes or to rouse himself to a sense of his surroundings. “Let him see you when he opens his eyes,” said Dr. Lighton to Mrs. Arbuthnot, and he signed to the Squire to keep in the background. Bertie heaved a sigh, like a child just awaking from sleep. The long eyelashes began to tremble upon the white cheek. Dr. Lighton himself drew back then to where he could not be seen. “Speak to him,” he said to the mother, in low tones. Mrs. Arbuthnot bent over her child. “Ronald?” she said; “my little Ronald!” The child’s eyes flashed open in an instant and fastened upon her face. A curious struggle seemed to go on within him. His great dilated eyes were full of an intense bewilderment and wonder. A sort of light seemed breaking in upon him, scattering shadows and dazzling him with its sudden vivid brightness. It was some seconds before he seemed able to speak, and then the word that passed his lips came almost like a cry, hoarse and choked, yet full of bewildered joy. “Mother! Mother!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXII. THE NAME FOUND. WHEN Bertie found himself clasped in his mother’s arms, and felt her warm tears upon his face, and heard her soft voice whispering tender, caressing words in his ear, he felt as if he had just awoke from a long bewildering dream, and such was the confusion of his mind that he clung to her more in terror than in joy; and his agitation was promptly checked by Dr. Lighton, who administered a soothing draught, which sent the child off into a sound sleep long before he had unravelled the tangle of his own ideas. This gave other people time to consider what steps had better be taken for the preservation of needful repose of body and mind after the double shock. The child had been a good deal bruised and shaken by the fall, and his right arm was severely sprained, although not broken, as the good farmer had believed, Dr. Lighton attended to these injuries without rousing him from the torpid condition induced by opiates, and left with the injunction that he was to be kept perfectly quiet in a darkened room, and not encouraged to talk, or to do anything, in fact, but sleep.