"We never expected to hear you speak again, for you lay for hours as if dead. Then sleeping and waking you uttered frightful cries, and for weeks we stood about your bed, watching and praying," Constance answered, tears dimming her soft eyes at the remembrance.
The next day, being stronger than ever, Constance said I might talk, and with that I fell to questioning her about everything that had happened, and particularly about Uncle Job, who, next to her, was ever uppermost in my thoughts.
"Did some one go to Uncle Job that night?" I asked.
"Yes; papa and the doctor."
"What did they find?" I asked, lifting myself up.
"They found your Uncle Job guarding Burke and trying to bring the other man to life," she replied.
"Did he succeed?" I asked, remembering poor Blott, and with what courage he had stood up at the last.
"No; but the doctor soon brought him to."
"How is he now?"
"He is well and at work about the stables. Papa doesn't think he is bad, only weak, and that Burke misled him."