The two young men held their breath.  To one who with unsteady feet walks the slippery margin of temptation, the higher his position, the greater his danger; the loftier his elevation, the more perilous a fall!

“He will never get to the end!” said Jones, watching with some anxiety the movements of his companion.

The words had scarcely escaped his lips when they received a startling fulfilment.  Philip had not proceeded half way along the parapet when a slight sound in the garden below him attracted his attention.  He glanced down for a moment; and there, in the cold, clear moonlight, gazing sternly upon him, he beheld his father!  The sudden start of surprise which he gave threw the youth off his balance,—­he staggered back, lost his footing, stretched out his hands wildly to save himself, and fell with a loud cry to the ground!

All was now confusion and terror.  There were the rushing of footsteps hither and thither, voices calling, bells loudly ringing, and, above all, the voice of a mother’s anguish, piercing to the soul!  Jones and Wildrake hurried off to the stables, saddled their horses themselves, and dashed off at full speed to summon a surgeon, glad of any excuse to make their escape from the place.

The unfortunate Philip was raised from the ground, and carried into the house.  His groans showed the severity of his sufferings.  The slightest motion was to him torture, and an hour of intense suspense ensued before the arrival of the surgeon.  Lady Grange made a painful effort to be calm.  She thought of everything, did all that she could do for the relief of her son, and even strove to speak words of comfort and hope to her husband, who appeared almost stupified by his sorrow.  Prayer was still her support—­prayer, silent, but almost unceasing.

The surgeon arrived,—­the injuries received by the sufferer were examined, though it was long before Philip, unaccustomed to pain and incapable of self-control, would permit necessary measures to be taken.  His resistance greatly added to his sufferings.  He had sustained a compound fracture of his leg, besides numerous bruises and contusions.  The broken bone had to be set, and the pale mother stood by, longing, in the fervour of her unselfish love, that she could endure the agony in the place of her son.  The pampered child of luxury shrank sensitively from pain, and the thought that he had brought all his misery upon himself by his folly and disobedience rendered it yet more intolerable.  When the surgeon had at length done his work, Lady Grange retired with him to another apartment, and, struggling to command her choking voice, asked him the question on the reply to which all her earthly happiness seemed to hang,—­whether he had hope that the life of her boy might be spared.

“I have every hope”, said the surgeon, cheerfully, “if we can keep down the fever.”  Then, for the first time since she had seen her son lie bleeding before her, the mother found the relief of tears.