save—a firm hold is laid on the arm of Fontonore—he is dragged to the shore in a senseless state, his livid hand still unconsciously wreathed in the locks of the boy whom he has saved! “Thank God! oh, thank God!” exclaimed Mr. Ewart, as he laid the two boys side by side on the turf, dripping, ghastly, insensible, but living still. He hastened for the aid which was speedily afforded. Ernest and Lawless were removed to the nearest cottage, where every means was used to restore them. A messenger was hastily despatched for a doctor, but before he arrived both of the sufferers had sufficiently recovered to be taken back to the castle. Lawless felt no further effect from his accident than a slight chill and a sense of exhaustion; but it was far otherwise with his youthful preserver, who had sustained very severe injury in his dangerous descent, and who awoke to consciousness in a state of such suffering as excited alarm in the minds of his friends. [Illustration: THE RESCUE.] The doctor arrived after some delay, and examined the injured boy, who shrank from his touch in uncontrollable pain. Dr. Mansell looked grave, and drew Mr. Hope aside. “I should wish, for my own satisfaction,” he said, “that other advice should be called in. The case is, I fear, of a serious nature—could not a messenger be despatched upon horseback at once to bring Dr. Ashby?” a surgeon of great eminence, who resided in a town at some distance. “One shall be sent directly,” replied Mr. Hope. “You do not apprehend any danger?” he added, speaking in a low, earnest tone. “We will say nothing till Dr. Ashby’s opinion is given. I hope that there is no cause for alarm;” but the manner of the medical man contradicted his words. Intense was the anxiety with which Charles and Mr. Ewart awaited the coming of the surgeon. How many, alas, have known that terrible period of waiting for the arrival of the doctor, when minutes seem lengthening into hours—for the life of a loved one is at stake! Charles was in such a state of feverish excitement, that Mr. Hope positively forbade his entering the apartment where the poor sufferer lay. Long before any one else could hear them, he caught the sound of carriage-wheels, and was ready at the bridge to receive the surgeon, whose lips would decide the fate of his brother. Dr. Ashby was a stout, bald-headed man, with a quick, penetrating eye, and a manner which inspired confidence; decided, without being harsh. Charles could hardly have been prevented from following him into Ernest’s room, in which Mr. Ewart and Dr. Mansell now were, but Mrs. Hope kept him back with the words, “Stay here in the corridor, Charles; the sight of your agitated face would be enough to kill him at once.” She entered in, and closed the door gently behind her.