"All in the dark? Where is your lantern?" asked Mr. Lindsay, as he climbed through the window.
"It went out very soon after you left. Can you find me? or shall I try to come to you?"
"Keep still, Regina. Come up the ladder, Esau, and hold your torch so that I can see. It is black as Egypt inside."
In a few moments the ruddy glare streamed in, and showed the anxious face of the sexton, and the figure of Mr. Lindsay groping from pew to pew. Before that cheerful red light how swiftly the trooping spectres and grim phantoms that had peopled the gloom fled away for ever! What a blessed, comforting atmosphere of love and protection seemed to encompass her, when, after handing one of the pew cushions to the sexton, Mr. Lindsay came to the spot where she lay.
"How are your wounds?"
"My foot is very stiff and sore, but if you will let me hold your arm, I can hop along."
"Can you, my crippled snow-bird? Suppose I have a different use for my strong arms?"
He lifted her very gently, but apparently without effort, and carried her to the window.
"Go down, Esau, set the torch in the ground, and hold the ladder,—press it hard against the wall. I am coming down backward,—and if I should miss a round, you must be ready to help me. Come, Hero, jump out first and clear the way. Steady now, Esau."
Placing his charge on the broad sill, Mr. Lindsay stepped out, established himself securely on the ladder, and, drawing the girl to the ledge, took her firmly in his arms, balancing himself with some difficulty as he did so.