When Llewellyn Percival, after some time, recovered from the effects of a serious wound on his head from a falling stone, and a broken arm, it was to find himself a popular hero. To his own mind, he had only done a most ordinary thing, such as any man would naturally do; and he could not understand why all the papers should publish glowing accounts of his bravery. The poor old sexton, who had faithfully followed him on his errand of mercy, and had only been deterred by his age and feebleness from arriving in time, deserved quite as many thanks as he did, Llewellyn maintained. But the fickle public did not think so, and subscriptions for Barnford Church literally poured in. It is a fine thing to be a popular idol, even for a day; and Llewellyn received so much kindness during his illness that he had never been happier in his life. An old aunt came to nurse him; and on the first day he was allowed to come downstairs a humble message was brought that Miss Lancaster would like to see him for a moment, if it would not tire him too much. She and her mother had been incessant in their inquiries, besides sending fruit, flowers, and invalid delicacies daily. "Show her in," said Llewellyn, unheeding his aunt's remonstrance; and in a minute she was bending over the chair from which he feebly strove to rise, her dark eyes full of tears. "I couldn't rest till I saw you," she faltered. "But oh! if you had been killed, I should have felt like a murderess! It was all my fault, for being so obstinate and wicked! When Dorcas told me I couldn't have the key of the church, I thought"--and she hung her head--"I said, indeed, that it was a piece of spiteful tyranny on your part, just to assert your arbitrary authority. Oh, how could I ever think it of you? Say you forgive me--only say so!" With the tears of genuine repentance and humility streaming down her face, it was not possible for mortal man to refuse her anything. "My dear Miss Lancaster, pray don't distress yourself! We are all liable to errors of judgment, and, believe me, I forgive you from my heart--if, indeed, I have anything to forgive." "Besides that, I've always been horrid to you," she sighed remorsefully. "I wouldn't help about the restoration, nor do anything in the parish, and I sneered at your magic-lantern. Oh, yes, I did--you can't deny it. But I hope now you won't worry any more about raising funds. Daisy and I, as a thank-offering for the great mercy vouchsafed to us, are going to finish the restoration, if you'll only tell us what you'd like. No, not a word of thanks--at least, not to _me_--I feel I really don't deserve it." And the dignified, self-complacent Miss Lancaster fairly bolted from the room; conscious that her face was quite unfit to be seen, and that it was absolutely necessary to have her cry out somewhere. Llewellyn leaned back in his chair, almost overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was about to attain his heart's desire at last.