But He that “turneth man to destruction” says also, “Return ye children of men;” and on Friday, the eleventh, I became conscious of Robert at my side, and of the children passing through the room and coming to me. I could feel their soft kisses on my hands and face, and I finally found strength to ask Mary, “How are Calvin and Alice?”
“Calvin is sick, Mamma,” she answered. “Papa put him in my room; he wanted to be near you.”
“Very sick?” I asked.
“Not as bad as I was.”
“Alice?”
“She has the fever very slightly. She is nearly well. Alexander, also, but you, dear Mamma?”
“All is right.”
The next day I was much worse. I could not move, and was hardly able to whisper a word or two, and towards midnight Alexander had a relapse. Wringing his hands, and full of 280 a strange reluctance, Robert went out into the dreadful night to try to find a doctor. What happened on that fateful walk, I may not write, but he brought back the doctor, who looked at the child, and then turning to Robert said,
“You will be wanted soon, lie down and sleep. Oh, you must! You must! I will stay here until you awake.”
I know not how long Robert slept. He threw himself on a sofa within sight of my bed, and appeared to fall into a deep sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Alexander begged to come to me, and the doctor laid him at my feet, and I felt with an indescribable thrill of love and anguish, his little hand clasp my ankle.