I sprang towards the door and closed it, and then threw myself upon my knees, and poured out my great anguish into the pitying ear of the heavenly Father.
“O, good, kind Father in heaven, do hear and quickly answer me. Do save my own dear papa from death. Mother, Bessie, and little Fred have all gone to live with thee; and he is all I have left. Do, I entreat thee, help him to get well; I will be more kind, and generous, and obedient than I have ever been before, and will try to please thee as long as I live.”
I arose comforted and strengthened. Returning to my father’s room, I saw the doctor with his fingers upon his wrist again.
“A faint pulse,” he said, turning towards grandmother.
Another hour passed. The breath was perceptible now, and the doctor looked more hopefully.
Morning came, and the glad sunlight streamed in through the windows. Father remained in a deep stupor, but manifested more signs of life than at any time since the accident. He had moved slightly several times, and as the hours went on his breathing became more natural and regular.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and gazed feebly around.
“Father, dear father, are you better?” I cried in a choking voice.
He smiled faintly, then closed his eyes again, and sank into a sweet, refreshing slumber.
Another day came, bringing joy immeasurable to all of us. Father was conscious and rallying fast, and before night the doctor assured us all danger was past. The weeks went on.