The machinery was destroyed, the child
lamed for life, and the brave father, in trying to rescue him and
others, was so injured by falling stones and pieces of woodwork that he
only lived a few hours.
The two were laid side by side in the hospital to which they were
carried.
"Father," said the little one, nestling close to the injured and dying
man, "I think people _can_ be martyrs now!"
But the father was past words, though he heard the child, for he smiled
and pointed upwards. The smile and the action were so significant, and
reminded the child so exactly of the angel who guards the Martyrs'
Monument, that ever afterwards he associated his brave father with those
heroes and heroines of whom the sacred writer says that "the world is
not worthy."
CHAPTER IV.
SOLITARY HOURS.
Giles was kept in the hospital for many weeks, even months. All that
could be done was done for him; but the little, active feet were never
to walk again, and the spine was so injured that he could not even sit
upright. When all that could be done had been done and failed, the boy
was sent back to his broken-down and widowed mother.
Mrs. Mason had removed from the comfortable home where she lived during
her husband's lifetime to the attic in a back street of Westminster,
where she finally died. She took in washing for a livelihood, and Sue,
now twelve years old, was already an accomplished little machinist.
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