"I think I am dying," replied Sidney, in a low murmur; "I am so tired and worn out I can go no further--I must lie here." And he sank at once upon the reeking grass beside the road.. At this time the rain gradually relaxed, the clouds broke away--a grey light succeeded to the darkness --the lightning was more distant; and the thunder rolled onward in its awful path. Kneeling on the ground, Philip supported his brother in his arms, and cast his pleading eyes upward to the softening terrors of the sky. A star, a solitary star-broke out for one moment, as if to smile comfort upon him, and then vanished. But lo! in the distance there suddenly gleamed a red, steady light, like that in some solitary window; it was no will-o'-the-wisp, it was too stationary--human shelter was then nearer than he had thought for. He pointed to the light, and whispered, "Rouse yourself, one struggle more--it cannot be far off." "It is impossible--I cannot stir," answered Sidney: and a sudden flash of lightning showed his countenance, ghastly, as if with the damps of Death. What could the brother do?--stay there, and see the boy perish before his eyes? leave him on the road and fly to the friendly light? The last plan was the sole one left, yet he shrank from it in greater terror than the first. Was that a step that he heard across the road? He held his breath to listen--a form became dimly visible--it approached. Philip shouted aloud. "What now?" answered the voice, and it seemed familiar to Morton's ear. He sprang forward; and putting his face close to the wayfarer, thought to recognise the features of Captain de Burgh Smith. The Captain, whose eyes were yet more accustomed to the dark, made the first overture. "Why, my lad, is it you then? 'Gad, you froightened me!" Odious as this man had hitherto been to Philip, he was as welcome to him as daylight now; he grasped his hand,--"My brother--a child--is here, dying, I fear, with cold and fatigue; he cannot stir. Will you stay with him--support him--but for a few moments, while I make to yon light? See, I have money--plenty of money!" "My good lad, it is very ugly work staying here at this hour: still-- where's the choild?" "Here, here! make haste, raise him! that's right! God bless you! I shall be back ere you think me gone." He sprang from the road, and plunged through the heath, the furze, the rank glistening pools, straight towards the light-as the swimmer towards the shore. The captain, though a rogue, was human; and when life--an innocent life --is at stake, even a rogue's heart rises up from its weedy bed. He muttered a few oaths, it is true, but he held the child in his arms; and, taking out a little tin case, poured some brandy down Sidney's throat and then, by way of company, down his own. The cordial revived the boy; he opened his eyes, and said, "I think I can go on now, Philip." . . . . . . . .