Forgetful of the physician's presence, or of anything, except that the God, whom she had not loved, had dealt with her in such infinite mercy, she fell on her knees and buried her face in her hands.
"Lord, help me! Save me!" she cried. "I have tried living without Thy help. I was all but lost. Do help, dear Lord."
These words, so different from what he expected under the circumstances, seemed too sacred for a stranger's ears, and the kind physician silently took his leave, wiping his eyes as he went down the stairs, then walked quickly to his home in the gray dawn of a new day.
[CHAPTER IV.]
WITH CHRIST.
MRS. CHERITON'S trials had only begun. Eugene's croup was followed by congestion of the lungs, the attack assuming from the first alarming symptoms. He would not bear his mother out of his sight for a moment. Indeed the result of her injudicious fondness showed itself during these sad weeks in a manner which would have been a warning to any one. Though she deprived herself of sleep, and almost of food, in order to be always at hand to minister to his wants, he showed no gratitude. He exacted everything as a right, and, if there was the slightest opposition to his wishes, he screamed with passion, often exclaiming, "I hate you. Go away, bad mamma." He would not take medicine from her, shrieking, "You tell lies. You told me it was good and it wasn't. I'll let Miss Howard give it to me: she never tells lies."
From Marion, too, he would submit to any treatment, even to the blisters upon his chest. "It will hurt you, Geenie," she said, "but if you don't have it on for a few minutes that dreadful pain will come back. Be a good boy, and I will tell you a nice story about Gypsy."
"Will you bring Gypsy to see me?"
"Yes, I will."
In addition to Eugene's sickness, the doctor's services were in daily requisition for Mrs. Douglass, who had never risen from her bed since the night of her grandson's seizure. The agony of mind she had suffered on account of her daughter, followed so speedily by Eugene's dangerous illness, proved too much for a frame enfeebled by disease. Violent pain in the head was succeeded by nervous chills, until Dr. Danforth became alarmed for her life.