Jeduthun knelt down and took the child's hand, saying gently:
"Why, Christie, what brought you here?"
But the next moment, he looked up, pale as ashes, and said in a half whisper, "Squire, we're too late. I'm dreadful afraid he's dead."
"Dead! He can't be," exclaimed Mr. Dennison, hardly knowing what he said. "What could kill him?"
"Fright, as likely as anything," replied Jeduthun. "But we won't give up hope," he added as he raised Christopher's apparently lifeless body gently in his arms. "Maybe there is life in him yet. Anyhow, we will give him a chance."
In a few minutes, Christopher was undressed and laid in a warm bed, while Kissy surrounded him with hot-water bottles and rubbed him vigorously with her strong hands. David Parsons, abroad at the first dawn, had seen Mr. Dennison and Jeduthun issue from the vault with the child, and was at the cottage as soon as they. Mr. Dennison went for the doctor, though there seemed little hope of his doing any good, and Mr. Parsons rode in the other direction to fetch his sister-in-law.
Before the poor mother arrived, Christopher showed signs of returning life, but he knew no one, and it was hard to rouse him sufficiently to swallow the hot drinks that Kissy gave him.
Mrs. Parsons would have taken her son home, but the doctor declared that he must not be moved, since everything depended on the most perfect quietness.
When Christopher began to recover his strength, he showed such signs of terror, that Doctor Henry feared for his reason. He knew no one about him, not even his mother,—she, poor woman! was almost overcome,—but kept calling for Osric, and begging him not to go away and leave him alone.
"Suppose I should bring my son over to see him?" said Mr. Dennison to the doctor.