o the
stream, filled his hat with water, and brought it back. When he came
into the church he saw Stephen, already partially restored, sitting up on
the cushions with Leonard supporting her.

He was rejoiced; but somehow disappointed. He would rather Leonard had
not been there. He remembered--he could not forget--the white face of
the boy who fled out of the crypt leaving Stephen in a faint within, and
who had lingered outside the church door whilst he ran for water. Harold
came forward quickly and raised Stephen, intending to bring her into the
fresh air. He had a shrewd idea that the sight of the sky and God's
greenery would be the best medicine for her after her fright. He lifted
her in his strong arms as he used to do when she was a very little child
and had got tired in their walks together; and carried her to the door.
She lent herself unconsciously to the movement, holding fast with her arm
round his neck as she used to do. In her clinging was the expression of
her trust in him. The little sigh with which she laid her head on his
shoulder was the tribute to his masculine power, and her belief in it.
Every instant her senses were coming back to her more and more. The veil
of oblivion was passing from her half-closed eyes, as the tide of full
remembrance swept in upon her. Her inner nature was expressed in the
sequence of her emotions. Her first feeling was one of her own fault.
The sight of Harold and his proximity recalled to her vividly how he had
refused to go into the crypt, and how she had intentionally deceived him,
negatively, as to her intention of doing that of which he disapproved.
Her second feeling was one of justice; and was perhaps partially evoked
by the sight of Leonard, who followed close as Harold brought her to the
door. She did not wish to speak of herself or Harold before him; but she
did not hesitate to speak of him to Harold:

'You must not blame Leonard. It was all my fault. I made him come!' Her
generosity appealed to Harold. He was angry with the boy for being there
at all; but more for his desertion of the girl in her trouble.

'I'm not blaming him for being with you!' he said simply. Leonard spoke
at once. He had been waiting to defend himself, for that was what first
concerned that young gentleman; next to his pleasure, his safety most
appealed to him.

'I went to get help. You had let the candle drop; and how could I see in
the dark? You would insist on looking