The girl sank on her knees by the bed. She reached up, and caught hold of Lawrence's arm; she clung to it.
"No, no!" she cried, in a half voice; "it can't be! Let us try the bath! Let us try everything! The dear little brother! I will not have it so!"
She rose as quickly as she had knelt. She endeavored to take the boy from the arms that held him.
"I will carry him," said Lawrence, rising. He had no hope, but he walked steadily to the bathroom. He helped the mother put the rigid form in the hot water.
The next moment he uttered a quick exclamation below his breath.
Had a faint flush come to the white little face?
The mother bent over her son. She rubbed his limbs; she pressed her cheek to his; she seemed almost to breathe her own breath into him.
Carolyn stood leaning against the door-frame. She could do nothing more; she could only wait, her pulses beating in her throat and threatening to choke her.
Suddenly Lawrence stood upright. "Thank God!" he breathed. He turned to Carolyn and took her hand, holding it firmly. They did not speak; they stood there hand in hand.
It had all happened so quickly to him, the terror, the relief, that now it still seemed as if he had not come to Savin Hill, as if he must be in his own room at the hotel, and dreaming all this.