“It was just this time last Sunday,” said Jane, “when papa had the stroke. He was just going to pray when the chapel-clock struck seven.”
“I wonder what he was going to say?” said Winny, sorrowfully.
“Our Father!” murmured a voice behind them, very low and weak, like the voice of one who has only strength to utter a single cry; and turning quickly, with a feeling of fear, they saw their father’s eyes opened, and looking towards them with inexpressible tenderness. Jessica laid her finger on her lips as a sign to them to be still, and with timid courage she went to the minister’s side.
“Do you know us again?” she asked, trembling between fear and joy; “do you know who we are, minister?”
“Jessica, and my children,” he whispered, with a feeble smile fluttering upon his face.
“He is come back!” cried Jessica, returning with swift but noiseless steps to Jane and Winny. “Let us make haste and tell the others. Maybe he is hungry and weak and faint. But he knows us—he is come back to us again.”
In a few minutes the joyful news was known throughout the house, and was carried to the chapel before the evening service was over; and the congregation, as they dispersed, spoke hopefully of the minister’s recovery. It was the crowning gladness of the day to Daniel, and he lingered at the minister’s house, to which he hastened as soon as he had closed the chapel, until it was getting on for midnight; and then he left Jessica with the children and started off for his home with a heart in which joy was full.
CHAPTER IX.
THE GATE OF DEATH.
