But he looked almost as ghastly as Mildred did, when, aided by the navvy's strong arms, they lifted her over the huge masses of rocks and up the steep steps. Polly ran to meet them; her lover's pale and disordered appearance alarmed her almost as much as Mildred's did. 'Oh, Heriot!' cried the young girl, 'you are hurt; I am sure you are hurt.' 'A strain, nothing else,' he returned, quickly; 'run on, dear Polly, and open the door for us. Mrs. Sowerby must take us in for a little while.' When Mildred perfectly recovered consciousness, she was lying on the old-fashioned couch in Mrs. Sowerby's best room; but she was utterly spent and broken, and could do nothing for a little while but weep hysterically. Polly lent over her, raining tears on her hands. 'Oh, Aunt Milly,' sobbed the faithful little creature, 'what should we have done if we had lost you? Darling--darling, how dreadful it would have been.' 'I wished to die,' murmured Mildred, half to herself; 'but I never knew how terrible death could be. Oh, how sinful--how ungrateful I have been.' And she covered her face with her hands. 'Oh, Heriot; ask her not to cry so,' pleaded poor Polly. 'I have never seen her cry before, never--and it hurts me so.' 'It will do her good,' he returned, hastily; but he went and stood by the window, until Polly joined him. 'She is better now,' she said, timidly glancing up into his absorbed face. Upon that he turned round. 'Then we must get her home, that she may change her wet things as soon as possible. Do you feel as though you can move?' he continued, in his ordinary manner, though perhaps it was a trifle grave. 'You are terribly bruised, I fear, but I trust not otherwise injured.' She looked up a little surprised at the calmness of his tone, and then involuntarily she stretched out her hands to him-- 'Let me thank you first--you have saved my life,' she whispered. 'No,' he returned, quietly. 'It is true your disobedience placed us both in jeopardy; but it was your obedience at the last that really saved your life. If you had fainted, you must inevitably have been lost. I could not have supported you much longer in my cramped position.' 'Your arm--did I hurt it?' she asked, anxiously, noticing an expression of pain pass over his face. 'I daresay I have strained it slightly,' he answered, indifferently; 'but it does not matter. The question is, do you think you can bear to be moved?' 'Oh, I can walk. I am better now,' she replied, colouring slightly. His coolness disappointed her; she was longing to thank him with the full fervour of a grateful heart. It was sweet, it was good in spite of everything to receive her life back through his hands. Never--never would she dare to repine again, or murmur at the lot Providence had appointed her; so much had the dark lesson of Coop Kernan Hole taught her. 'Well, what is it?' he asked, reading but too truly the varying expressions of her eloquent face.