By this time they were carrying Doctor Sturk--that gaudy and dismal image--up his own staircase--his pale wife sobbing and shivering on the landing, among whispered ejaculations from the maids, and the speechless wonder of the awe-stricken children, staring through the banisters--to lay him in the bed where at last he is to lie without dreaming. CHAPTER LIV. IN WHICH MISS MAGNOLIA MACNAMARA AND DR. TOOLE, IN DIFFERENT SCENES, PROVE THEMSELVES GOOD SAMARITANS; AND THE GREAT DOCTOR PELL MOUNTS THE STAIRS OF THE HOUSE BY THE CHURCH-YARD. So pulse or no pulse, dead or alive, they got Sturk into his bed. Poor, cowed, quiet little Mrs. Sturk, went quite wild at the bedside. 'Oh! my Barney--my Barney--my noble Barney,' she kept crying. 'He's gone--he'll never speak again. Do you think he hears? Oh, Barney, my darling--Barney, it's your own poor little Letty--oh--Barney, darling, don't you hear. It's your own poor, foolish Letty.' But it was the same stern face, and ears of stone. There was no answer and no sign. And she sent a pitiful entreaty to Doctor Toole, who came very good-naturedly--and indeed he was prowling about the doorway of his domicile in expectation of the summons. And he shook her very cordially by the hand, and quite 'filled-up,' at her woebegone appeal, and told her she must not despair yet. And this time he pronounced most positively that Sturk was still living. 'Yes, my dear Madam, so sure as you and I are. There's no mistaking.' And as the warmth of the bed began to tell, the signs of life showed themselves more and more unequivocally. But Toole knew that his patient was in a state of coma, from which he had no hope of his emerging. So poor little Mrs. Sturk--as white as the plaster on the wall--who kept her imploring eyes fixed on the doctor's ruddy countenance, during his moments of deliberation, burst out into a flood of tears, and thanksgivings, and benedictions. 'He'll recover--something tells me he'll recover. Oh! my Barney--darling--you will--you will.' 'While there's life--you know--my dear Ma'am,', said Toole, doing his best. 'But then--you see--he's been very badly abused about the head; and the brain you know--is the great centre--the--the--but, as I said, while there's life, there's hope.' 'And he's so strong--he shakes off an illness so easily; he has such courage.' 'So much the better, Ma'am.' 'And I can't but think, as he did not die outright, and has shown such wonderful endurance. Oh! my darling, he'll get on.' 'Well, well, Ma'am, there certainly have been wonderful recoveries.'