At last Lawrence could bear it no longer. He pulled the crow from his shoulder, and put it down in a chair. Then he ran up the stairs, forgetting that he was not as strong as usual. He entered Leander's room just as the boy was trying to leap from his bed, and his mother and sister were struggling to keep him there.
"Oh, Rodney! help us!" cried Mrs. Ffolliott, breathlessly.
Lawrence walked forward and put the two women aside. He held out his arms; Leander sprang into them, nearly throttling him in the violence of his embrace.
But Lawrence could not sustain the burden for more than a moment. He turned to find a seat, then he sank down on the bed, holding the boy fast all the time.
Mrs. Ffolliott was wringing her hands and crying, "Oh, what shall I do! Oh, what shall I do!"
But Carolyn was standing straight and still, her eyes on Lawrence, watching to discover if there was any way for her to help.
Leander's eyes were wildly dilated; his limbs seemed to have a convulsive movement.
"Let us try a hot bath," said Lawrence.
Then Carolyn flew to prepare it. Meanwhile Lawrence sat on the bed, the boy's arms fast about his neck, the mother walking frantically here and there in the room. Every few moments she exclaimed, "Will the doctor never come?"
But Lawrence did not say anything. His heart was heavy within him. To this mother the world itself seemed to circle about simply that her son might live upon it.