hold
of him.

'No, he is not dead; but he is badly hurt, Abercrombie says. Let me go,
Mrs. Blake; they want my help to carry him in. Is there a room ready?
Mollie, look after your mother;' and Michael sped on his sad errand.

'Do not let anyone in, Burnett, while I examine him. Lock the door;' and
Michael obeyed the doctor's orders, though an agonised voice outside
entreated admittance.

Michael thought the doctor's examination would never end; but by and by
he came up to Michael and drew him aside.

'Do you wish another opinion, Burnett?' he asked abruptly; 'but it is
kinder to tell you that the thing is hopeless.'

'Good heavens, Abercrombie! Do you mean he will not live?'

'Only a few hours--he is hurt internally. They were both down on the
rails, you know: I saw the whole thing; and he flung up the old man with
one hand--I never saw anything so splendidly done--but the wheel of the
engine caught him, and before they could stop the train the mischief was
done.'

'Will he suffer? Can nothing be done for him? Abercrombie, I would give
half my fortune to save the life of that man.'

'He will not suffer long,' returned Dr. Abercrombie kindly. He was a
rough, hard-featured Scotchman, but no man had a better heart, as
Michael knew. 'I will do all I can for him, Burnett, for his own sake as
well as yours. I think he wants to speak to you, but he cannot talk
much; it is agony to him.'

And Michael stepped up to the bed. In the emergency he had regained his
old calmness of manner, and as Cyril's eyes were fixed on his face, he
bent over him and said gently:

'Do not speak, my dear fellow; I know what you wish to say. I will
telegraph for her at once.'

Cyril's damp, cold hand closed over his.

'Thanks, thanks! that is what I wanted. She would like it, and it will
do no harm.'

The last few words seemed intended for a question, and Michael answered
without hesitation.

'Harm! she would never forgive us if we did not send for her.'

Then a faint light came into Cyril's eyes.

'I hope for her sake I shall not suffer; but it will soon be over: I
heard him say so.' He seemed to speak with difficulty. 'Don't look so
sorry about it, Burnett; it is much better so, and the poor old man was
saved. Oh!'

That expression of pain wrung unwillingly from his lips drew the doctor
to him, and he made a sign to Michael to leave them.

An hour later Audrey received the following telegram:

'An accident. Cyril Bla