"What then?"
"I did all that I could, sir, until the doctor came," she said.
"And that means every thing, Mr. Stillinghast. She saved your life.
She used the best remedies; she put ice about your head, and bled you.
When I came you were out of danger; but be calm, sir; let me beseech
you to be calm," said the doctor.
"Did you do all this, little May?" he asked, looking earnestly at her with his piercing gray eyes.
"Yes, sir; I had read that such remedies were necessary."
"Why did you do it, little one? My life or death is of no interest to you. Tell me why you did it?" he whispered.
"Oh, dear uncle, forgive me!" said May, while her tears dripped like rain-drops on her wan cheek; "I knew that you had made no preparation for death. I would have died that you might live long enough to effect a reconciliation with Heaven."
"Profit—gain—loss—loss—loss!" he murmured; then suddenly he put up his feeble hand, and drawing May's face closer to him, kissed her cheek. "If it is not too late, pray for me!" he whispered, in tones so low that she scarcely heard them.
"Not too late. Oh no, dear uncle, it is not too late," said May, smoothing back the tangled gray hair from his sunken temples.
"Mr. Stillinghast, my dear sir, I fear that you are exciting yourself. I would recommend quiet, composure; indeed, sir, it is absolutely necessary in your case," said the doctor, looking on uneasily.