imed, "that he is not dead! Does any one know
how this has happened?"

"I believe, my lady," replied one of the servants, "that Mr Frank was
hit by a big stone which fell on him from the top of the ruins. I heard
Juniper Graves say as much."

"Ay, my lady," said another; "it were a mercy it didn't kill Mr Frank
outright."

The object of their care began now to come more to himself. He tried to
rise, but fell back with a groan.

"What _can_ I do for you, my poor boy?" asked his mother; "the doctor
will be here soon, but can we do anything for you now? Where is your
pain?"

"I fear my left arm is broken," he whispered; "the pain is terrible."

"Take some more brandy," said his mother.

He took it, and was able to sit up. Then with great difficulty they
undressed him, and he lay on the bed pale and motionless till the doctor
arrived. On examination, it was found that the arm was terribly
bruised, but not broken. There were, however, other injuries also,
though not of a serious character, which Frank had sustained in his
perilous climbing to the rescue of Mary Oliphant. Fever came on,
aggravated by the brandy injudiciously administered. For some days it
was doubtful what would be the issue; but at last, to the great joy of
Sir Thomas and his wife, the turning-point was passed, and Dr Portman
pronounced their child out of danger--all he needed now was good
nursing, sea-air, and proper nourishment. During the ravings of the
fever his mind was often rambling on the scene in the ruins--at one time
he would be chiding the dog, at another he would be urging Mary to cling
firmly to the ivy; and there was a tone of tenderness in these appeals
which convinced Lady Oldfield that her son's heart was given to the
rector's daughter. This was confirmed by a conversation which she had
with him at the sea-side, where he was gone to recruit his strength.
There he opened his whole heart to her, and confessed the depth of his
attachment to her whose life he had so gallantly saved. Lady Oldfield
was at first pained; she would not have preferred such an alliance for
her son. But, on further reflection, the prospect was not so
displeasing to her. Mary Oliphant was not inferior to her son in birth,
and would have, when she came of age, a good fortune which had been left
her by a wealthy aunt. Frank's love for beer and wine, and even
spirits, had grown so much of late, that his mother had begun to feel
very anxious about hi