We set to work once more with double zeal under the inspiration of Miss
Warren's words and manner, but especially because assured that life
still lingered. In less than a quarter of an hour there was a
perceptible pulse. At last she was able to swallow a little stimulant,
and the faint spark of life, of which we scarcely dared to speak lest
our breath might extinguish it, began to kindle slowly. When at last
she opened her eyes, Miss Warren turned hers heavenward with a fulness
of gratitude that must have been sweet to the fatherly heart of God if
the words be true, "Like as a father pitieth his children."
Mrs. Yocomb threw herself on her knees by the bedside, sobbing, "Thank
God! thank God!"
Reuben was growing wild with joy, and the father, overwhelmed with
emotion, was struggling to rise, when the doctor said, in low, decided
tones:
"Hush! Nothing must be said or done to excite or surprise her. Mr. and
Mrs. Yocomb, as you love your child, control yourselves. You, Mr.
Morton, would seem strange to her, and, with Reuben, had better leave
us now. Miss Warren will help me, and I think all will be well."
"Don't overtax Miss Warren," I urged, lingering anxiously at the door a
moment.
She gave me a smiling, reassuring nod, as much as to say that she would
take care of herself.
"God bless her!" I murmured, as I sought my room. "I believe she has
saved the child."
CHAPTER XV
MY FATE
Having lighted the lamp in my room, I looked around it with a delicious
sense of proprietorship. Its quaint, homely comfort was just to my
taste, and now appeared doubly attractive. Chief of all, it was a
portion of the home I had had some part in saving, and we instinctively
love that which ministers to our self-complacency. An old house seems
to gain a life and being of its own, and I almost imagined it conscious
of gratitude that its existence had not been blotted out. Mrs. Yocomb's
cordial invitation to come and stay when I could gave me at the time a
glad sense that I had found a country refuge to which I could
occasionally escape when in need of rest. I felt now, however, as if
the old walls themselves would welcome me. As to the inmates of the
home, I feared that their grateful sense of the services I was so
fortunate as to render might make their boundless sense of obligation
embarrassing to me. It would be their disposition to repay an ordinary
favor tenfold, and they would always believe that Reuben and I had
saved their lives, and the old home which no doubt had long been in
their family.
"Well, I'll never complain of fortune again," I thought, "since I've
been permitted to do for these people what I have;" and I threw myself
down on the lounge, conscious of the warm, comfortable glow imparted by
dry clothes and the strong coffee, still more conscious of an inner
satisfaction that the threatening events of the night had ended just as
I could have wished.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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