Carolyn came back to say that the bath would soon be ready. She went to her mother and put her arm about her. "Let us be as brave as we can," she whispered; and she kissed her mother's cheek. The time dragged in that deadly way which so many of us know. Lawrence did not rise. He sat rigidly still, holding Leander. He looked at Carolyn, whose face suddenly blanched still more. She turned to her mother. "Please see if the water is just right, mamma; you'll find Jane there." Mrs. Ffolliott went out of the room. "Carolyn," said Lawrence, in a voice just above a whisper. The girl came slowly to the bed. CHAPTER XIX. "I SHALL COME BACK." "Dear Caro," said Lawrence, in the same whisper, "can you bear it?" The girl sank on her knees by the bed. She reached up, and caught hold of Lawrence's arm; she clung to it. "No, no!" she cried, in a half voice; "it can't be! Let us try the bath! Let us try everything! The dear little brother! I will not have it so!" She rose as quickly as she had knelt. She endeavored to take the boy from the arms that held him. "I will carry him," said Lawrence, rising. He had no hope, but he walked steadily to the bathroom. He helped the mother put the rigid form in the hot water. The next moment he uttered a quick exclamation below his breath. Had a faint flush come to the white little face? The mother bent over her son. She rubbed his limbs; she pressed her cheek to his; she seemed almost to breathe her own breath into him. Carolyn stood leaning against the door-frame. She could do nothing more; she could only wait, her pulses beating in her throat and threatening to choke her. Suddenly Lawrence stood upright. "Thank God!" he breathed. He turned to Carolyn and took her hand, holding it firmly. They did not speak; they stood there hand in hand. It had all happened so quickly to him, the terror, the relief, that now it still seemed as if he had not come to Savin Hill, as if he must be in his own room at the hotel, and dreaming all this. But the touch of that soft, tender, and strong hand,--was not that real? And now the hand was withdrawn. "Hullo, Rodney! That you?" A small, piping voice from the bath-tub thus spoke. "Run and get another blanket," said Mrs. Ffolliott. In another moment the blanket was tightly wrapped about the boy in his dripping nightgown, and Rodney had taken him again in his arms. Thus the procession started back to the chamber they had just left. Mrs. Ffolliott was now weeping aloud and as unrestrainedly as a child. "What's the row, anyway?" asked a weak voice from Lawrence's shoulder. "Wait," said Carolyn from behind. "I won't wait, either," said the boy, feebly, but quite in character. "Tell me now." "You've been ill." "Have I? I feel kinder queer, I do believe." A silence followed, and continued, until the boy had been invested with a dry night-robe and covered in bed. "I don't want Rod to go," he now announced. "I want Rod to lie down on this bed."