as left quite alone. Her
attention came back to the sick person at her feet. So near the
light-hearted pleasure of ten minutes ago had been to pain and death!
And Mr. Rhys's sermon was nearer still. The first thing to consider,
was what she could do for the man.

He had fallen and lay on the grass in the broad sunshine. The sun had
mounted high now; its beams fell hot and full on the sufferer's face.
At a little distance was a grove of oaks and beeches, and good shelter;
but Eleanor's strength could not move the man thither; he was a great,
thickset, burly fellow. Yet it was miserable to see the sun beating
upon his face where the sweat of pain already stood. Eleanor went to
the wood, and with much trouble and searching managed to find or break
off two or three sticks of a few feet in length. She planted these for
a frame near the sick man's head and spread her light summer shawl over
them to make a screen. It was a light screen; nevertheless much better
than nothing. Then Eleanor kneeled down by the man to see what more she
could do. Red and pale changed fast and fearfully upon his face; big
drops stood on the brow and cheeks. Eleanor doubted whether he were
conscious, he lay so still. She took her pocket-handkerchief to wipe
the wet brow. A groan answered her at that. It startled her, for it was
the first sound she had heard the sick person utter. Putting down her
face to receive if possible some intimation of a wish, she thought he
said or tried to say something about "drink." Eleanor rose up and
sought to recollect where last and nearest she had seen water. It was
some distance behind; a little spring that had crossed their foot-way
with its own bright track. Then what could she bring some in? The
phials! Quick the precious pond water and bog water was poured out,
with one thought of the nameless treasures for Mr. Rhys's microscope
that she was spilling upon the ground; and Eleanor took the basket
again and set off on the backward way. She was in a hurry, the sun was
warm, the distance was a good quarter of a mile; by the time she had
found the stream and filled her phial and retraced again her steps to
where the sick man lay, she was heated and weary; for every step was
hurried with the thought of that suffering which the water might
alleviate. This was pure, sparkling, good water with which the phials
were now filled. But when Eleanor got back to him, the man could not
open his lips to take it. She feared he would