"My child, my sweet child, come back to me! Speak to your mother! Open your eyes and smile, sweet one! O God, he does not breathe; he’s dead, my darling boy!" she cried at last, relaxing her efforts in a paroxysm of grief; but I, regaining my senses as quickly as I had lost them, clasped her about the neck and kissed her, crying out: "I am not dead, mother, though I thought I’d lost you and pap, I was so long away and the water was so cold." "Oh, my sweet child!" was all the answer she could make, as she buried her face in the soft pillow beside my own. "Did you think I’d never come?" I asked caressing her hair and face. "We heard you call back that you would bring us help, but we could see no way, and were given over to despair and death when at last you reached us. Oh, you were brave, my darling, to have planned as you did. Surely God must have guided you." "He did, dear mother, and except for your prayer I’d never have reached the shore or known what to do once I got there"; and this, her prayer to the good Lord to protect her son, has been a legacy of love and tenderness to me to this day. For throughout all my life the sweet vision has not faded, nor will to the end, nor afterward, I must believe. My father, now that the danger was past, appeared much cast down, and so sat silent and despondent beside the pallet on which I lay. Seeing him, I cried: "Oh, pap, you looked so brave and grand as you struggled in the water! and when I saw you with mother clinging about your neck I never loved you half so much"; and reaching up I pulled him down and kissed him, and doing so, my face was wet as with rain with his tears. "Except for you, my son, our struggle had been in vain; for in a few minutes we should have been drawn into the rapids, and that would have been the end. I am glad you have shown yourself so strong, my child, for your mother will soon need your young arms, I fear, for strength and life seem forever dead within me," he answered, in a voice so full of lugubrious forebodings that I cried out as if some great misfortune hung over us. My mother, too, burying her face in my bosom, also began to weep, and thus, despite our being saved, we all mourned as if some dreadful mishap threatened. "Oh, pap," I answered at last, "I’m too small to do more than love you and come to you for everything I want, but we’ve got ourselves, and what more is there? When I’m a man I’ll give you all I have, and we will make mother love us more and more every day." To this he made no response, save a sob and the pressure of his hand, which was icy cold. Nor did he ever afterward speak to me in the old way, for from that time a dreadful melancholy seized him, which never departed nor lightened, but grew steadily darker each day until the end.