Ten minutes more and she had passed through the gates of
Death back to this warm and living world.
"Let me die," she gasped faintly. "I cannot bear it. Oh, let me die!"
"Hush," said the doctor; "you will be better presently."
Ten minutes more passed, when the doctor saw by her eyes that Beatrice
wished to say something. He bent his head till it nearly touched her
lips.
"Dr. Chambers," she whispered, "was he drowned?"
"No, he is safe; he has been brought round."
She sighed--a long-drawn sigh, half of pain, half of relief. Then she
spoke again.
"Was he washed ashore?"
"No, no. You saved his life. You had hold of him when they pulled you
out. Now drink this and go to sleep."
Beatrice smiled sweetly, but said nothing. Then she drank as much of the
draught as she could, and shortly afterwards obeyed the last injunction
also, and went to sleep.
Meanwhile a rumour of this wonderful recovery had escaped to without the
house--passing from one watcher to the other till at length it reached
the ears of the solitary man crouched in the shadow of the pines. He
heard, and starting as though he had been shot, strode to the door of
the Vicarage.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69