It was a strange meeting between Mrs. Talbot and Robert. Tears were in the eyes of the mother, tears which only her son understood. With great care James Talbot was carried to a bed-chamber on the second floor of the house and here made as comfortable as possible, while one of the neighbors went off to summon a doctor.
"They tell me you risked your life to save him," whispered Mrs. Talbot to Robert. "Oh, Robert, my boy! my only boy!" And she clasped him about the neck and burst into a passionate fit of weeping.
When the doctor had made a careful examination he looked very grave.
"The shock is a heavy one, Mrs. Talbot," he said. "And coming on top of that which he had some time ago, is likely to prove serious."
"Do you mean he will die?" she asked quickly.
"'While there is life there is hope,' that is all I can say," said the physician, and then gave directions as to what should be done for the sufferer.
In the morning James Talbot was no better, physically, although able to talk a little. From his wife he learned what Robert had done for him.
"He's a good boy," he whispered huskily. "A better boy than I am a man."
"James, when you get well you must give up drinking," she replied.
"I won't get well, Sarah--I feel it. But I won't drink any more, I promise you." And then she kissed him on the forehead. She had loved him once, and now, when he lay helpless, she could not help but love him again.