y upon her, he bade her slide
down towards him, assuring her that she would have a firm footing on the
ledge. She obeyed at once, feeling his strong arm bearing her up and
guiding her. Another moment, and she stood beside him. But now, how
were they to descend? She dared not attempt to leap back to the spot
from whence she had sprung in her terror, and there was no regular
descent from the slab on which they were perched, but only a few
projecting stones down the perpendicular face of the wall, and these at
wide intervals.

"There's no way but a roundabout climb down by the ivy," said Frank at
last. "Trust to me, dear Mary, and do exactly what I tell you. I will
go first, and do you place hand and foot just as I bid you. There--put
your foot in that crevice--now take firm hold of that branch; there--now
the other foot--now the next step a little to the right, the good ivy
makes a noble ladder--now we're nearly landed; there--be careful not to
slip on that round stone--one step more, and now we're safe. Oh, thank
God, _you're_ safe!"

He clasped her to his heart; she knew that heart was hers; she could not
resent that loving embrace; it was but for a moment. He released her,
and was turning to the friends who were gathering and pressing round,
when a heavy stone, loosened in their descent, fell on his outstretched
arm, and struck him to the ground.

Mary sprang towards him with a cry of deep distress.

"Frank, dear Frank--you're hurt--you're dreadfully hurt, I'm sure."

"No, no; not much, I hope," he said, springing up, but looking very
pale. "It's an awkward blow rather, but don't distress yourself--we'll
make the best of our way home at once--just one of you see to the
horses."

He spoke with effort, for he was evidently in great pain. Mary's heart
ached for him, but exhaustion and anxiety quite deprived her of the
power of speaking or thinking collectively.

The horses were speedily brought. Frank held out his uninjured arm to
help Mary Oliphant to mount her pony.

"I'm so very, very sorry," she said, "to have caused this disaster, and
spoiled our happy day through my foolish timidity."

"Nay, nay; you must not blame yourself," said Frank. "I am sure we all
feel for you. It was that rascal of a dog that did the mischief, but I
gave him such a mark of my respect as I don't think he'll part with for
a long time."

Poor Frank, he tried to be cheerful; but it was plain to all that he
must be suf