that he seemed a little confused about where he
was,--what room it was, and how she came to be there by fire-light. Then
she lighted a candle, and allowed him to talk about his friend Dale, and
several school affairs; and this brought back gradually the recollection
of all that had happened.

"I don't know what I have been about, I declare," said he, half
laughing. But he was soon as serious as ever he was in his life, as he
said, "But oh! mother, tell me,--do tell me if I have let out who pulled
me off the wall."

"You have not,--you have not indeed," replied she. "I shall never ask. I
do not wish to know. I am glad you have not told; for it would do no
good. It was altogether an accident."

"So it was," said Hugh; "and it would make the boy so unhappy to be
pointed at! Do promise me, if I should let it out in my sleep, that you
will never, never tell anybody."

"I promise you. And I shall be the only person beside you while you are
asleep, till you get well. So you need not be afraid.--Now, lie still
again."

She put out the light, and he did lie still for some time; but then he
was struck with a sudden thought which made him cry out.

"O, mother, if I am so lame, I can never be a soldier or a sailor.--I
can never go round the world!"

And Hugh burst into tears, now more really afflicted than he had been
yet. His mother sat on the bed beside him, and wiped away his tears as
they flowed, while he told her, as well as his sobs would let him, how
long and how much he had reckoned on going round the world, and how
little he cared for anything else in the future; and now this was just
the very thing he should never be able to do! He had practised climbing
ever since he could remember;--and now that was of no use;--he had
practised marching, and now he should never march again. When he had
finished his complaint, there was a pause, and his mother said,

"Hugh, do you remember Richard Grant?"

"What,--the cabinet-maker? The man who carved so beautifully?"

"Yes. Do you remember----No, you could hardly have known: but I will
tell you. He had planned a most beautiful set of carvings in wood for a
chapel belonging to a nobleman's mansion. He was to be well paid,--his
work was so superior; and he would be able to make his parents
comfortable, as well as his wife and children. But the thing he most
cared for was the honour of producing a noble work which would outlive
him. Well, at the very beginning of his task, his