As Fernan repeated the Lord's Prayer, first learnt from Lance, the tears gathered and softened Edgar's eyes, and made a mist as he saw the pale brow sprinkled, and heard the Holy Name.
'You said that once for him. Let me hear the old echo again. I wanted to teach him, but it never came right.'
Ferdinand was so thankful that the doxology came from his heart, though at the moment he saw that the poor child had been almost baptized in blood, for Edgar's caresses had displaced the bandage and some bright red drops had started, and mingled with the water, and he could not help silently tracing the cross with his finger before kissing and wiping it away, and re-adjusting the handkerchief. 'He is warmer,' he said. 'See, his lips are less deathly.'
'The death flush,' said the father.
'It need not be. I will try the brandy again. I thought we got a little down before.'
'I tell you he shall not be tortured! Why should he wake to an hour's conscious misery? I could not bear it! I say I will not have it done!' and he stretched out his hand as in protection.
'Nay, why should not he live? There can hardly be any vital part here, and it has just missed the spine. Let me try!'
'To make him a wretched orphan. Another burthen to Felix.'
'That need not be a scruple now.'
'He has not married Marilda after all!'