Mrs. Hildreth leaned over her son in an agony of fear. Louis was her idol. He opened his eyes wearily. His cheeks were as white as the pillow.
"Oh, Louis!" she wailed, "I knew that wretched horse would bring you to your death!"
"I am not dead yet," he said, with a shadow of his old mocking smile, "although I have succeeded in making a fool of myself. How is Pompey?"
"Pompey!" ejaculated his mother. "I never thought of any one but you."
* * * * *
Evadne stood in Dyce's little room, beside the bed with its gay patchwork cover. The iron-shod hoofs had done their cruel work only too well!
"Pompey," she said wistfully, "dear Pompey, is the pain terrible to bear?"
The faithful eyes looked up at her, the brave lips tried to smile. "De Lord Jesus is a powerful help in de time of trubble, Miss 'Vadney; I'se leanin' on his arm."
Evadne repeated, as well as she could for tears. "'Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.'"
And Pompey answered with joyous assurance,—"'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.'"