Mr. Netherclift had sent many kind messages to Owen; he greatly regretted not being able to walk, as he should have liked to call on his young friend. But that not being possible, he sent kind words by David, and once he managed to write a few lines, to Owen's great joy, for it was a very rare thing for him to receive a letter.
At last he was able to get up once more, and in a few days longer could manage to go into the next room by the aid of a crutch on one side, and Clarice's strong arm on the other. It was a great delight to be able to move even so far, though the exertion made him feel somewhat faint at first. He had been there only a short time, when Clarice, who had been downstairs, came into the room with a smiling face.
"Could you bear to see a visitor, Owen?" she asked. "Do you feel strong enough?"
"A visitor! for me? Who is it?"
CLARICE HELPING OWEN.—[Page 60.]
"An old friend of yours," she replied, returning in a few minutes with an elderly gentleman, in whom Owen joyfully recognised his kind friend the Vicar of Westbrook.
"Oh, Mr. Sturt, sir, is it really you? I can't get up, sir, but I am glad to see you."
"Don't move, my boy. I have just heard of your accident from your uncle," he said, taking a chair which Clarice offered him, close to Owen. "I was passing through Barmston, and thought I should like to see you. You look very altered and weak," he said, kindly; "are you in much pain?"