Laying her gently down, he again fetched water, and bathed her face, when, reviving somewhat, she lay with her eyes half closed, and lips moving gently. "Did you speak?" he said, as he bent over her. "No," she said, after a few moments. "I was praying. Will you try to lift me up?" Philip raised her a little, but she winced from the sharp pain caused by the movement, upon which he desisted; but, with a smile, she begged him to help her to her feet. A few moments' trial, though, showed that she was utterly incapable of walking, when, taking her in his arms, Norton slowly and carefully bore her amidst the pine trees to the edge of the marsh, whence, after a brief rest, he again proceeded, bringing her over the soft, springy ground, till, during a longer rest, he said to her, in sad tones: "I thought the age of miracles was past, but an angel was sent to stay my hand." Then, heedless of her remonstrance, he continued: "How am I ever to repay you for the injury I have done?" "By acting as a man should," she said, softly; "by ceasing to be a coward. You," she exclaimed excitedly, "a soldier--a man whom we loved--to fly from suffering like that! It was cruel to all--to Marion--to yourself! How could--" "For Heaven's sake, spare me!" he groaned. "The sight of what I have done seems to have brought me back to a life of greater suffering. But you need not fear; I will bear it." Book 1, Chapter VIII. WHAT FOLLOWED. It was an accident--so people said at Merland, and from being a wonder for a time, it was soon forgotten; and when, pale and weak from many months of illness, Ada Lee was seen out, with the tall bronzed soldier pushing her invalid chair, or reading to her from some book, the gossips of the village used to prophesy. And yet no word of love had passed between the invalid and her companion. Ada's prolonged stay at the Rectory had resulted in Mrs Elstree wishing her to make it her home, on the grounds of her own loneliness, now that Sir Murray Gernon had, on account of his wife's health, decided to remain in Italy, where he had taken a residence on the shores of Como. While Ada, continuing weak and ill, accepted Philip's attentions with a smile of pleasure, though there was sorrow at her heart, which bled daily for the sufferings of her companion. For time seemed to bring no healing to the wounds of Philip Norton, who, apparently disgusted with life, had sold out from the army, to settle down at his own place, Merland Hall, seeing no one, visiting nowhere save at the Rectory.