She could find no other words in the revulsion which swept over her. Her cry quickly brought Uncle Peabody, and the women drew near to behold the miracle of the dead brought to life; but all except Helen fell back as the doctor entered.
“He lives, doctor!” she exclaimed exultantly, her face radiant with joy.
“Then there is hope,” he replied, with a reassuring smile, as he began the examination of his patient.
Helen followed every motion as the doctor proceeded, encouraged by the confidential little nods he made at the conclusion of each process, as if answering in the affirmative certain questions which he put to himself. Armstrong again opened his eyes as the doctor carefully investigated the depth of the wound, and his lips moved slightly. Helen impulsively drew nearer, but the sound was barely articulate.
The doctor drew back the lids and peered intently into his open eyes, nodding again to himself. At length he turned to the silent group about him, who so eagerly waited for the verdict.
“Will he live?” was Helen’s tense question as she seized his arm.
Dr. Montgomery looked into the upturned face with a kindly smile. “I hope so, Mrs. Armstrong,” he answered, quietly. “It is a severe concussion of the brain, and we must await developments.”
“Are there unfavorable signs?” asked Uncle Peabody, anxiously.
“No; quite the contrary so far. There is no fracture of the skull, and the normal size of the pupils shows no serious injury to the brain.”