He watched them with wistful eyes as they tried the usual remedies; but it was long before even the flicker of an eyelid spoke to them of life. At the first sign of returning animation Herbert crept just behind his wife’s pillow, where he could see the first unclosing of the drooping lids. When Magdalene opened her eyes at last, they fell full on her husband’s face.
Phillis, who was beside her, marvelled at the strange beauty of that rapt look, as she lay and gazed at him.
“Herbert’s face!” they heard her whisper, in an awe-struck voice. “Then I have died at last, and am in heaven. Oh, how merciful! but I have not deserved it,—a sinner such as I.”
“Magdalene, my darling, you are in our own home! It is I who was lost, and have come back to you. Look at me. It is only the children that are in heaven. You and I are spared to each other on earth.” But for a long time her scattered faculties failed to grasp the truth.
Phillis went home at last, and left them. There was nothing she could do, and she was utterly spent; but Miss Mewlstone kept watch beside her charge until late into the night.
Little by little the truth dawned slowly on the numbed brain; slowly and by degrees the meaning of her husband’s tears and kisses sank into the clouded mind. Now and again she wandered, but Herbert’s voice always recalled her.
“Then I am not dead?” she asked him, again and again. “They do not cry in heaven, and Barby was crying just now. Barby, am I dreaming! Who is this beside me? is it Herbert’s ghost? only his hands are warm, and mine are so terribly cold. 262 Why you are crying too, love; but I am to tired to understand.” And then she crept wearily closer and closer into his arms, like a tired-out child who has reached home.
And when Herbert stooped over her gently, he saw that the long lashes lay on her cheek. Magdalene had fallen asleep.