fely got down
the rickety ladder leading to the crumbling stone stair? Ethel knelt
by her, twisted up the fluttering hair, bade her shut her eyes and
compose her thoughts, and then called over the battlements to Aubrey,
who, confused by the shock, continued to emerge at wrong doors and lose
himself on the roofs, and was like one in a bad dream, nearly as much
dizzied as his sister, to whose help he came the more readily, as the
way up was the only one plain before him.

The detention would have been more dreadful to Ethel had she known all
that was passing below, and that when the little boy, at Leonard's
sign, lowered himself towards the out-reaching arms of the young man,
who was steadying himself against the wall of the tower, it was with a
look of great pain, and leaving a trail of blood behind him. When, at
length, he stood at the angle, Leonard calmly said, 'Now go before me,
round that corner, in at the door. Hold by the wall, I'll hold your
shoulder.' The boy implicitly obeyed, the notion of giddiness never
seemed to occur to him, and both safely came to the little door, on the
threshold of which Leonard sat down, and lifting him on his knee, asked
where he was hurt? 'My leg,' said Dickie, 'the glass was running in
all the time, and I could not move; but it does not hurt so much now.'

Perhaps not; but a large piece of glass had broken into the slender
little calf, and Leonard steadied himself to withdraw it, as, happily,
the fragment was large enough to give a hold for his hand. The sensible
little fellow, without a word, held up the limb across Leonard's knee,
and threw an arm round his neck, to hold himself still, just saying,
'Thank you,' when it was over.

'Did it hurt much, Dickie?'

'Not very much,' he answered; 'but how it bleeds! Where's Aunt Ethel?'

'On the tower. She will come in a moment,' said Leonard, startled by
the exceeding flow of blood, and binding the gash round with his
handkerchief. 'Now, I'll carry you down.'

The boy did not speak all the weary winding way down the dark stairs;
but Leonard heard gasps of oppression, and felt the head lean on his
shoulder; moreover, a touch convinced him that the handkerchief was
soaking, nay dripping, and when he issued at length into the free air
of the church, the face was deadly white. No one was near, and Leonard
laid him on a bench. He was still conscious, and looked up with
languid eyes. 'Mayn't I go home?' he said, faintly; 'Aunt E