"What an absurd blunder. Why, of course, I remember now. I did not know him again. It's Mrs Rolph's keeper." The flush that came into the girl's face was visible even by the faint light of the miserable tallow candle, as Oldroyd went on in a low voice,-- "Poor fellow! I misjudged him. I took him for a poacher, and its the other way on. The scoundrels! No, no, don't give way," whispered Oldroyd, as the girl let her face fall into her hands and began to sob convulsively. "There, there: cheer up. We won't let him die. You and I will pull him through, please God. Hush! quietness is everything. Go and tell those men to be still, and say I shall not want the pony till six or seven o'clock. One of them must be ready, though, in case I want a messenger to run to the town." Oldroyd's words had their effect, for a dead silence fell upon the place, and the injured man soon slept quietly, lying so still, that Judith, after her return, sought the young doctor's eyes from time to time, asking dumbly whether he was sure that something terrible had not occurred. At such times Oldroyd rose, bent over his patient and satisfied himself that all was going well before turning to his fellow-watcher and giving her an encouraging smile. Then there would be a weary sigh, that told of relief from an anxiety full of dread, and the night wore on. For a time, Oldroyd, as he sat there in that dreary room, glancing occasionally at the dull, unsnuffed candle, fancied that the men had stolen away, but he would soon know that he was wrong, for the faint odour of their bad tobacco came stealing up through the window, and he knew as well as if he were present that they were sitting about on the fence or lounging against the walls of the cottage. Between three and four, the critical time of the twenty-four hours, when life is at its lowest ebb, a sigh came from the bed, and the sufferer grew restless to a degree that made Oldroyd begin to be doubtful, but the little uneasy fit passed off, and there was utter silence once again. Philip Oldroyd's thoughts wandered far during this time of watching; now his imagination raised for his mental gaze the scene of the desperate encounter, and he seemed to see the blows struck, hear the oaths and fierce cries, succeeded by the report of the gun, and the groan of the injured man as he fell. Then that scene seemed to pass away, and the room at The Firs came into sight, with its grim, blank look, the stiff figure of Mrs Alleyne; calm, deeply absorbed Alleyne; and the sunshine of the whole place, Lucy, who seemed to turn what was blank and repulsive into all that was bright and gay.