'Hush, my son, we must not grieve a departing spirit. I was wrong. His will be done even in this. He has given, and He must take away; be silent while I bless my child again, my child whom I am giving back to Him and to her mother,' but as he lifted up his hands the same feeble articulation smote on their ear. 'Cardie wants me--poor Cardie--poor papa--not my will.' Did Mildred really catch those words, struggling like broken breaths?--was it the cold sweat of the death-damp that gathered on the clammy brow?--were the fingers growing cold and nerveless on which Richard's hot lips were pressed?--were those dark eyes closing to earth for ever? 'Mildred--Richard--what is this?' '"Lord, if he sleep he shall do well!" exclaimed the disciples.' 'Hush; thank God, this is sleep, natural sleep,--the crisis is passed, we shall save her yet,' and Dr. Heriot, who had just entered, beckoned the father and brother gently from the room. CHAPTER XVI COMING BACK 'If Thou shouldst bring me back to life, More humble I should be, More wise, more strengthened for the strife More apt to lean on Thee. Should death be standing at the gate, Thus should I keep my vow, But, Lord! whatever be my fate, Oh, let me serve Thee now!'--Anne Brontë. 'This sickness is not unto death.' The news that the crisis had passed, and that the disease that had so long baffled the physician's skill had taken a favourable turn, soon spread over the town like wildfire; the shadow of death no longer lingered on the threshold of the vicarage; there were trembling voices raised in the _Te Deum_ the next morning; the vicar's long pause in the Thanksgiving was echoed by many a throbbing heart; Mildred's book was wet with her tears, and even Chrissy looked softened and subdued. There were agitated greetings in the church porch afterwards. Olive's sick heart would have been satisfied with the knowledge that she was beloved if she had seen Roy's glistening eyes and the silent pressure of congratulation that passed between her father and Richard. 'Heriot, we feel that under Providence we owe our girl's life to you.' 'You are equally beholden to her aunt's nursing; but indeed, Mr. Lambert, I look upon your daughter's recovery as little less than a miracle. I certainly felt myself justified to prepare you for the worst last night; at one time she appeared to be sinking.' 'She has been given back to us from the confines of the grave,' was the solemn answer; and as he took his son's arm and they walked slowly down the churchyard, he said, half to himself--'and a gift given back is doubly precious.' The same thought seemed in his mind when Richard entered the study late that night with the welcome tidings that Olive was again sleeping calmly. 'Oh, Cardie, last night we thought we should have lost our girl; after all, God has been good to me beyond my deserts.' 'We may all say that, father.'