"I give it up, unless she was directed by that Divinity which shapes our destinies," replied the housekeeper, with much feeling.
Hastening to Barbour's room he opened the door without formality and found his guest upon his knees in silent prayer. Touched at the sight he went forward and knelt beside him, placing a hand upon his shoulder. Then he whispered into his ear—
"She is safe—the doctor says so—your prayer has been answered even as you made your wishes known. You should look upon her sweet face—come with me," appealed Villard as he helped the grief-stricken father to his feet and escorted him to the bedside where his child, with a smile on her lips, still slept. But the fact that she lived was enough joy for Alexander Barbour.
CHAPTER VIII. HENRY UPDYKE DROPS IN
Wondering what might be going on at Sawyer's home, Villard went into his study and gave him a ring over the phone. Sawyer personally answered the call. Evidently the episode of the morning had been trying, for his voice was gruff—much deeper than usual.
"Who calls?" he demanded in a rasping tone.
"Villard speaking—I have been wondering how matters stood over your way. All serene over here. The girl has opened her eyes, but immediately went back to sleep."
"I'm glad to hear that—over here the situation is terrible! This man Parkins is a ruffian—at death's door his oaths are blasphemous, and to those who are trying to save his worthless life he shouts defiance and demands his revolver that he may 'kill the whole bunch'—to use his words, expurgated. His language toward Doctor Benton was vile!"