The doctor’s step was heard upon the stairs, and he entered breathlessly, and without a word crossed to the bed, to bend down over the sufferer as he held his wrist.
The silence in that room was terrible to two of the inmates, and the suspense seemed to be drawn out until it was almost more than could be borne.
At last the doctor turned away, and sank exhausted in a chair; and as Helen caught his hand in hers, and questioned him with her eyes, he said in a low and reverent voice—
“Yes, Helen, our prayers have been heard. Poor fellow! he will live.”
Chapter Forty Seven.
Convalescence.
“Get out,” said Dan’l, some weeks later. “Tired? Why, I could pull this here inv’lid-chair about the garden all day, my lad, and not know it.”
“But why not rest under one of the trees for a bit?” said Dexter.