The housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Bereel ees awake, and has asked for you both," she said.
When we again stood beside the couch, the girl made an effort to take my hand, but was too weak. Seeing her purpose, I grasped hers instead.
"Thank you," she said, in a thin, ghostly little voice. "It was not his fault, uncle; he saved me. Come to see me sometime, and we'll go—rowing again!"
She tried to smile, but was too exhausted.
"I shall certainly come to inquire about you," I replied, gently laying her hand down. "I fear I was somewhat to blame, and I hope you will be all right very soon."
She looked at me with a wan light of gratitude in her eyes, and a few moments later I was bidding Father John adieu on the porch step.
"Come again, m'sieu," he said, squeezing my hand warmly. "You shall have ze welcome!"
I thanked him, again expressed my hope and belief that his niece would be quite all right in a day or two, and struck out for Hebron.