There was no answer. The strength excitement had supplied for the moment was gone, and she lay apparently lifeless in his arms.
With a sharp cry of agony he laid her back upon her pillow, and began chafing the cold hands and pressing passionate kisses on the pale lips.
Hearing his cry as she neared the door of the sick-room, Ada hurried in, full of wonder and alarm.
“Rolfe!” she exclaimed in astonishment.
“Ada, make haste! Throw up the window to give her air! Hand me that bottle of ammonia—quick, quick! she’s dying! she’s dead! Oh, Ethel, my life, my love! have I found you only to lose you again?” he groaned, redoubling his efforts to restore her to consciousness, while Ada, divided between amazement at his presence there and excessive agitation, and her fear that life was really extinct, hastily obeyed his orders.
“Thank God, she yet lives!” he said in tones tremulous with emotion, as at length the eyelids began to quiver and a long, sighing breath came from the white lips.
“Rolfe,” they whispered very low and feebly.
“Yes, yes, I am here, my poor little Ethel,” he answered, kneeling by her couch and fondly caressing her hair and cheek. “You will live for me, and nothing in life shall ever part us again.”
A beautiful smile crept over her face as she opened her eyes for a single instant; then closing them again, she fell asleep with her hand in his.