My father, too, was at the hall-door in an instant.
"I am thankful to see you," he said, as the doctor sprung from the dog-cart; "you have heard the circumstances?"
"I have," answered Dr. Wilson, following my father quickly up-stairs. "Is he still unconscious?"
The answer was lost to me; but all at once, as I thought of Dr. Wilson, and how much depended upon his visit, the recollection of my mother's words came back to me, "We must pray God, Willie, if it be His will Aleck may get better;" and with a sudden impulse I jumped up, shut the door, and kneeling down, with my head pressed upon my hands, I prayed with a sort of intensity I had never known before: "O Lord, make Aleck well, do make Aleck well, don't let him die,"—repeating the words over and over again, and getting up with some dim sense of comfort in my mind, as I thought that God had the power as much now as when in our human nature He walked upon this world, to heal all that were ill; and had He not said, "Ask, and you shall receive?"
Why was it that the verse which I had repeated that morning to my mother, after breakfast, came back so often to my mind? "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." Generally my mother explained my daily text, but this morning, owing to the anxiety about Aleck's disappearance, there had not been the usual time, and she had simply heard the verse, and sent me off, as before-mentioned, to the school-room. Now I took to explaining it for myself. What business had I to pray with that iniquity hidden in my heart, of which no one knew but God? How could I get forgiven? what was I to do?
Conscience took courage and put in the suggestion, "Confess boldly to your parents the sin that is lying so heavily upon you." But then the thought that, if Aleck never got better, they would think me his murderer, took possession of me, and I took pains to convince myself, against my own reason, that after all, I had not actually been guilty of falsehood, since the real manner in which the ship had been lost was actually guessed by my father; that it would do no good if I were to give them the pain of knowing that I had allowed it to happen, having it in my power to prevent it; that, after all, it would be enough to confess to God and get forgiven.
But the reasoning, though for a time it silenced the promptings of conscience, did not give me peace of mind; and a sense that I could not pray—that, at least, my prayers would do no good—took from me the only comfort that was worth thinking of.
I was so taken up with these reflections, that I never heard steps upon the stairs, and started with an exclamation almost of fright when the door opened rather quickly, and my father and Dr. Wilson came in.
"Why, Willie, there's nothing to be frightened at," exclaimed my father. "Here's Dr. Wilson come to cheer us up about Aleck, who is to get quite well by-and-by, we hope."
"Yes, yes, little man," said Dr. Wilson, kindly chucking me under the chin, after a fashion which I have noticed prevails amongst grown-up tall people who are amiably disposed towards children; "we shall soon hope to bring him round again. With all your monkey-like ways of climbing about the rocks, my only wonder is I've not had you for a patient long ago!"