"No," said Mr. Fairfax; "I'll go back and order some brandy, and send for the doctor. You stay here and take care of him and the mill."
He went away, and very long did the time seem to Archie before the doctor arrived. Now he had time to think over his own unkind—nay, cruel—suspicions, founded on nothing but Stephen's shabby appearance.
"It's my way, I know, to make up my mind too quickly, and by a fellow's outside," he thought. Then, somehow, the words of the last Sunday's epistle came into his mind—"Charity thinketh no evil." He knew that charity means love.
"No," he said to himself, "I shouldn't have thought evil of him, and I certainly had no right to say what I did to father and Mr. Munster. Poor fellow! how lonely and miserable he must have been; and I might have stood his friend, if I'd only given him the chance of speaking about his troubles, instead of glaring at him as I did. Is it too late now to make up?"
Just then the doctor came in; but for a long, long time he could not restore Stephen to consciousness.
He was trying still when three o'clock struck.
"Now he is really coming to—look, Dr. Grey," cried Archie, who had watched all the doctor's efforts with breathless anxiety.
Just then Stephen gave a great sigh, and opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked feebly.
"All among friends," said Archie, "and going to have a jolly time, and be nursed up, and made as strong as a horse.—Now, Dr. Grey, let's get a cab. I'll go and call one," and he bustled off.