She obeyed. There were voices; Wilmet's—Clement's. 'You go!'—'He will bear it best from you!' they said.
She heard no more, for Felix had started up on his elbow, and the blood had again rushed to his lips. She called for help. All were about him, there was no checking it, for seconds—for minutes. His face was deathly, his hands cold. Clement, holding him on his breast, whispering prayers, felt him more prone and feeble every instant; all believed that a life was ebbing away far more precious than the little feeble spark so easily quenched.
When a respite came, it was with a hand on the pulse, and with an anxious face, that the doctor durst signify to them that this was relief—not the end as yet; but as Clement laid the head back the furrows of pain had cleared, the brow had smoothed, the breath came without the stifled groans, the position was less constrained, and when Angela ventured to say, 'He looks more comfortable,' there was an air of assent and rest, the worst of the pain was evidently relieved for the time.
Stella stole away with the tidings to poor Geraldine, whom she found sitting up in bed, trembling so that the whole framework shook, and totally unable to move from it, without the appliances that assisted her lameness. Before long, Wilmet was able to attend to a representation of her condition, and could bring her wonted remedies, and what was even better, her strong soft arms to enfold the little frail quivering frame, and her sweet, steady, full voice to assure her that Felix was undoubtedly better, and not suffering near so much.
And when Cherry was quieted, and Wilmet would have returned, the little handmaid said, in an imploring voice, 'Where is dear Tedo? mayn't I go to him now?'
'My dear child!' exclaimed Wilmet, in pitying consternation, 'then you don't know?'
Cherry saw what was implied! How else could the helpless darling have been left by all!
'It is so?' she said.
Wilmet bent her head.
Stella gave a kind of moan.