Beulah Sands had gone beyond her limit and was
at peace.
The awful groaning stopped and an ashen pallor spread over Bob Brownley's
face. Before I could catch him he rolled backward upon the floor as dead.
Bob Brownley, too, had gone beyond his limit. I bent over him and lifted
his head, while the sweet woman-child knelt and covered his face with
kisses, calling in a voice like that of a tiny girl speaking to her doll,
"Bob, my Bob, wake up, wake up; your Beulah wants you." As I placed my
hand upon Bob's heart and felt its beats grow stronger, as I listened to
Beulah Sands's childish voice, joyously confident, as it called upon the
one thing left of her old world, some of my terror passed. In its place
came a great mellowing sense of God's marvellous wisdom. I thought
gratefully of my mother's always ready argument that the law of all laws,
of God and nature, is that of compensation. I had allowed Bob's head to
sink until it rested in Beulah's lap, and from his calm and steady
breathing I could see that he had safely passed a crisis, that at least he
was not in the clutches of death, as I had at first feared.
Bob slept. Beulah Sands ceased her calling and with a smile raised her
fingers to her lips and softly said, "Hush, my Bob's asleep.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131