They had not time to knock, when the door was opened wide to them, and a pale girl’s face looked out eagerly. She shrank back at once with a look of blank disappointment which touched Cuthbert’s heart, “I--I beg your pardon--I thought it was my brother.” “Your brother will be here very soon. He has done a very brave thing to-night, and has had a slight accident in consequence. I beg you will not be alarmed,” said Cuthbert hastily. “Oh! come in, sir, come in,” said the young sister. “A very brave thing.” She repeated it again and again, under her breath. “There’s the noddy,” whispered John, as he lingered behind. “I’ll wait and help him in.” The door admitted into a long paved passage, terminating in a little damp “green.” John Buchanan remained at the door, while Cuthbert followed the steps of his eager conductor, through the passage, and up an “outside stair,” into the house. She seemed very eager, and only looking round to see that he followed her, ran into a little parlour. “Harry is coming. He has been helping somebody, and has hurt himself, Martha; the gentleman will tell you,” exclaimed poor Harry’s anxious advocate, placing herself beside the chair where sat a tall faded woman, sternly composed and quiet. “Is Harry hurt?” cried another younger and prettier person, who occupied the seat of honour by the fireside. “He has done a very brave thing;” Cuthbert heard it whispered earnestly, into the elder sister’s ear. He told them the story. The little wife was excited and nervous--she began to cry. The sister Martha sat firmly in her chair, her stern face moved and melting. The younger girl stood behind, with her arm round her sister, and her bright tearful face turned towards Charteris. “Our Harry--our poor Harry! it was this that kept him, Martha--and he saved the child.” “What shall we do? Will he be lame?” sobbed the little wife. The grave Martha suddenly rose from her chair as the faint sound of wheels reached them. “He is here. Rose, make the room ready for him, poor fellow. Do not let him see you crying, Agnes. Come to the door, and meet him.” They went away hastily, leaving Charteris still in the room. Rose vanished by another door into an inner apartment. They were overmuch excited and anxious to remember the courtesy due to a stranger; and the stranger, for his part, was too much interested to leave them until he had seen how the sufferer bore his removal. “Rose,” said a very small voice, “has Harry come home?--Rose!” Charteris looked round him a good deal puzzled, for there was no visible owner of the little voice. There certainly was a cradle in a corner, but nothing able to speak could inhabit that. “Rose!”