llow's swimming brain, and he threw
his legs off the couch and tried to rise, but sank back with a groan.

"There: you can't," said Mark soothingly, and he took his hand. "Tell
me--what's happened? You didn't see, because you'd fainted when I had
you brought in, but we're in trouble too. But I suppose you know. Were
you going to help?"

"To help?" said Ralph faintly. "No; to ask for help. They took us by
surprise. Our men wounded. Just at day-break. We were all asleep.
They climbed in."

"Who did? Purlrose?"

"Yes; and his men. Father called me to dress, and we called the men
together, but they got between us and the arms. The cowards! they cut
us down. The poor lads who were wounded too. All so sudden. In a few
minutes it was all over. Father prisoner--half our men dead; rest
locked in one of the lower rooms: and I crawled away--to lie down and
die, I thought."

"Why, it must have been after they had failed here," muttered Mark.

"They did not see me; I was behind an over-turned table, and a curtain
and chair over me. I could hear all they said. They sat and drank
after they had dragged out four of our poor fellows, dead."

"Then they sat and talked; I heard them. That captain said Cliff Castle
would do as well as Black Tor, and they would stay there."

"Ah!" panted Mark excitedly.

"And a great deal more. It meant that they'd taken the place, and I
felt then that I must die. I don't know how long they were there. It
was hot and stifling, and there was smoke, and a man rushed in, and said
the prisoners had escaped, and set fire to the place."

Ralph shuddered and was silent, till Mark began bathing his face again,
when he seemed to revive a little, and wandered on:

"Fire burned so fast--crawled out--through the window--Minnie's
fish-pool--castle burning so fast--father--Minnie--help!--oh help!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

DRAWING TOGETHER.

Mark bathed the sufferer's face again, but there was no return to
consciousness, and growing more and more alarmed, he hurried to his
father's chamber and woke him, Sir Edward as he leaped up, still
dressed, snatching eagerly at his sword. "You, Mark?" he cried. "The
enemy?"

"Yes--no, father. Come quickly. Young Darley's here, dying."

"Young Darley here!"

"Yes, in my room," cried Mark wildly. "I've sent for Master Rayburn,
but come and do something; we mustn't let the poor fellow die."

And in a wild incoherent way, he told Sir Ed