The doctor soon arrived, and so played his skilful part, that, upon bringing to him a basin of such soup as he had seldom enjoyed, Wills looked up anxiously in Mrs. Brudenel's face.
"The boy?" he asked. "Is he safe?"
"We hope so," replied she gently.
"Only hope, miss?"
"Only hope at present, but my husband has taken his men to bring him in. We shall soon have good news for you, please God."
"Ay, please God," said the old man. "The cheild has come to be like the apple of my eye,—the best fruit from a fine old stock, lady. Please God, please God."
"Would you like me to pray with you for his safety?" asked the lady.
"Ay, ef 'ee will," replied he.
Mrs. Brudenel knelt by the old seaman's bed, took his horny hand in her soft white one, and poured out a supplication to the God and Father of them both, that He would keep this boy safely beneath the shadow of His everlasting wings, and restore him to his friends without injury.
As she rose from her knees, the old man's lips moved again. "Amen, amen," he muttered. "Please God, please God."