She wrapped her handkerchief tightly round it, but it soon began to drip again upon her pretty dress.

Then she tore off some of the large young fig-leaves beside her, not knowing what else to do, and held them to it.
* * * * * A few minutes later, Manisty and Eleanor descended the same path in haste.
They had found the ascent longer and more intricate than even he had expected, and had lost count of time in a conversation beside Egeria's spring--a conversation that brought them back to Lucy changed beings, in a changed relation.

What was the meaning of Manisty's moody, embarrassed look?
and of that white and smiling composure that made a still frailer ghost of Eleanor than before?
'Did you hear that call ?' said Manisty, stopping.
It was repeated, and they both recognised Lucy Foster's voice, coming from somewhere close to them on the richly grown hillside.

Manisty exclaimed, ran on--paused--listened again--shouted--and there, beside the path, propping herself against the stones of the wall, was a white and tremulous girl holding a swathed arm stiffly in front of her so that the blood dripping from it should not fall upon her dress.
Manisty came up to her in utter consternation.

'What has happened?
How are you here?
Where are the others ?' She answered dizzily, then said, faintly trying to smile, 'If you could provide me with--something to tie round it ?' 'Eleanor!' Manisty's voice rang up the path.