"The little dog's all right,--don't you worry about him!" said the
woman--"He knows how to take care of himself and you too! It was just
him that brought me along here where I found you. Bless the little soul!
He made noise enough for six of his size!"

Helmsley gave a faint sigh of pleasure.

"Poor little Charlie! Where is he?"

"Oh, he's close by! He was almost drowned with the rain, like a poor
mouse in a pail of water, but he went on barking all the same! I dried
him as well as I could in my apron, and then wrapped him up in my
cloak,--he's sitting right in it just now watching me."

"If--if I die,--please take care of him!" murmured Helmsley.

"Nonsense, dearie! I'm not going to let you die out here on the
hills,--don't think it!" said the woman, cheerily,--"I want to get you
up, and take you home with me. The storm's well overpast,--if you could
manage to move----"

He raised himself a little, and tried to see her more closer.

"Do you live far from here?" he asked.

"Only just on the upper edge of the 'coombe'--not in the village,"--she
answered--"It's quite a short way, but a bit steep going. If you lean on
me, I won't let you slip,--I'm as strong as a man, and as men go
nowadays, stronger than most!"

He struggled to rise, and she assisted him. By dint of sheer mental
force and determination he got himself on his feet, but his limbs shook
violently, and his head swam.

"I'm afraid"--he faltered--"I'm afraid I am very ill. I shall only be a
trouble to you----"

"Don't talk of trouble? Wait till I fetch the doggie!" And, turning from
him a moment, she ran to pick up Charlie, who, as she had said, was
snugly ensconced in the folds of her cloak, which she had put for him
under the shelter of a projecting boulder,--"Could you carry him, do you
think?"

He nodded assent, and put the little animal under his coat as before,
touched almost to weak tears to feel it trying to lick his hand.
Meanwhile his unknown and scarcely visible protectress put an arm round
him, holding him up as carefully as though he were a tottering infant.

"Don't hurry--just take an easy step at a time,"--she said--"The moon
rises a bit late, and we'll have to see our way as best we can with the
stars." And she gave a glance upward. "That's a bright one just over the
coombe,--the girls about here call it 'Light o' Love.'"

Moving stiffly, and with great pain, Helmsley was nevertheless impelled,
despite his suffering, to look, as