a high-pitched sound, like the voice of pain, is carried far in the quiet air.  Ruth, speeding on in her despair, heard the sharp utterance, and stopped suddenly short.  It did what no remonstrance could have done; it called her out of herself.  The tender nature was in her still, in that hour when all good angels seemed to have abandoned her.  In the old days she could never bear to hear or see bodily suffering in any of God’s meanest creatures, without trying to succour them; and now, in her rush to the awful death of the suicide, she stayed her wild steps, and turned to find from whom that sharp sound of anguish had issued.

He lay among the white stones, too faint with pain to move, but with an agony in his mind far keener than any bodily pain, as he thought that by his unfortunate fall he had lost all chance of saving her.  He was almost over-powered by his intense thankfulness when he saw her white figure pause, and stand listening, and turn again with slow footsteps, as if searching for some lost thing.  He could hardly speak, but he made a sound which, though his heart was inexpressibly glad, was like a groan.  She came quickly towards him.

“I am hurt,” said he; “do not leave me;” his disabled and tender frame was overcome by the accident and the previous emotions, and he fainted away.  Ruth flew to the little mountain stream, the dashing sound of whose waters had been tempting her, but a moment before, to seek forgetfulness in the deep pool into which they fell.  She made a basin of her joined hands, and carried enough of the cold fresh water back to dash into his face and restore him to consciousness.  While he still kept silence, uncertain what to say best fitted to induce her to listen to him, she said softly—­

“Are you better, sir?—­are you very much hurt?”

“Not very much; I am better.  Any quick movement is apt to cause me a sudden loss of power in my back, and I believe I stumbled over some of these projecting stones.  It will soon go off; and you will help me to go home, I am sure.”

“Oh, yes!  Can you go now?  I am afraid of your lying too long on this heather; there is a heavy dew.”

He was so anxious to comply with her wish, and not weary out her thought for him, and so turn her back upon herself, that he tried to rise.  The pain was acute, and this she saw.

“Don’t hurry yourself, sir; I can wait.”

Then came across her mind the recollection of the business that was thus deferred; but the few homely words which had been exchanged between them seemed to have awakened her from her madness.  She sat down by him, and covering her face with her hands, cried mournfully and unceasingly.  She forgot his presence, and yet she had a consciousness that some one looked for her kind offices, that she was wanted in the world, and must not rush hastily out of it.  The consciousness did not ’take this definite form, it did not become a thought, but it kept her still, and it was gradually soothing her.