"Fainted! Water!" said Louis.
"Camfire!" said Aunt Hildy, and I stood powerless to move or speak. I saw Louis lay her on the sofa, and thought she was dead; the room grew dark, and I forced myself to feel my way to the door, and leaning against it would have fallen had not father put his arm about me and led me through into the entry where I could get some air. When the sickening swimming feeling left me, and the mist fell from my eyes, I was strong enough to do something, and kneeling by the side of the motionless figure, felt her pulse, or rather tried vainly to find it, and put my cheek to her mouth, whence came no breath.
"Oh! Clara darling, little mother, speak to us, our hearts are breaking! Oh, Louis! get hot water and flannels, chafe her limbs, put a hot cloth over the stomach and chest; she is not dead," and putting my head down, I breathed full, long breaths into her nostrils.
"'Taint no use," said Aunt Hildy, "but we must do it," and she worked with a will.
"That poor angel woman is done gone," said Matthias. "She couldn't stan' it. Oh, de Lord!" and he looked the picture of despair.
We were losing hope of resuscitation, and I sank on the floor beside Louis, who still knelt at the head of the lounge, when a faint sound came from her lips. We held our breath and listened, and now in a low, weak voice she said:
"I'll go back, Louis Robert, to say good-bye; I can stay a little longer; oh! they feel so badly—yes, I must go back," and then long, deep sighing breaths were taken. A little longer and her eyes opened—"Louis, Emily, baby, friends, I am here."
"Oh! little mother," said Louis, "where is the trouble?"
She tried to smile, as if to cover all our fears, and said with effort:
"I am weak; I could not hold together; get some of Aunt Hildy's bitters," and when the glass containing it was held to her lips, she drank eagerly.