“—be amongst you and remain with you always. Amen.” There was a little stir. The hand was drawn from his.
“Come, now,” whispered Aunt Lucia, and he walked, stumbling and stiff from kneeling, from the room. At the door he glanced a second backward, but only Dr. Hitchcock was to be seen, bending over the bed. Miss Strong had already taken away candles and flowers, and Caddy’s triple mirror was back on the dresser.
Mr. Burchard, in his long black cassock, offered his hand cordially.
“I am glad you could be with us, Mr. Belden,” he began, but the other broke in:
“If you have tired her, if this—makes a difference—” he muttered fiercely, “you will have me to settle with. Mind that!”
He hurried down the stairs, his hands still clinched. Peter was starting off with the road-wagon. They nodded shortly at each other.
From then the time raced on incredibly. The great surgeon, with his two assistants, was in the hall; he was on the stairs; he was lost to sight. There was a momentary rush and bustle, the closing of a door. Peter came out, whispering to himself, and disappeared somewhere. The others, clustered in the library, spoke fitfully.
“They carried her on a cot into the west room,” somebody murmured close to Belden. It was little Margaret. “I saw her. She waved her hand at me! I threw her a kiss. Miss Strong smiled at me—I love Miss Strong.”
Aunt Lucia sobbed. Susy bit her lip and played with Billy’s unwilling hand.
“Where’s my father? Where’s he gone?” he demanded. “Who’s that other woman with the apron?”