The curate lifted him, no hard task, out of the damp shadow, and
laid him on the stone, which was warm in the sun, with his head on
Helen's lap, then ran to order the carriage, and hastened back with
brandy. They got a little into his mouth, but he could not swallow
it. Still it seemed to do him good, for presently he gave a deep
sigh; and just then they heard the carriage stop at the gate.
Wingfold took him up, carried him to it, got in with him in his
arms, and held him on his knees until he reached the manor house,
when he carried him upstairs and laid him on the sofa. When they had
brought him round a little, he undressed him and put him to bed.

"Do not leave me," murmured Leopold, just as Helen entered the room,
and she heard it.

Wingfold looked to her for the answer he was to make. Her bearing
was much altered: she was both ashamed and humbled.

"Yes, Leopold," she said, "Mr. Wingfold will, I am sure, stay with
you as long as he can."

"Indeed I will," assented the curate. "But I must run for Mr. Faber
first."

"How did I come here?" asked Leopold, opening his eyes large upon
Helen after swallowing a spoonful of the broth she held to his lips.

But, before she could answer him, he turned sick, and by the time
the doctor came was very feverish. Faber gave the necessary
directions, and Wingfold walked back with him to get his