The lips moved feebly to let Durgan know that, after his escape, the seizure had come as he fled. The doctor came, and gently moved hand and foot, testing the muscles and nerves. He confirmed the self-diagnosis. The stricken man had probably lain unconscious half through the night, but his mind was clear now. The rain had washed the temporary dye and all the stiffness from his hair. It lay gray and disheveled about his thin, brown face. The haggard lines were partly gone; the dark eyes looked up steadily, sad as eyes could be, but fearless. The change was so great that Durgan spoke his involuntary sympathy. "Guess you feel nothing worse can come to you now." Then he added, "Keep up your heart. I'll take you where you will be well cared for." The driver had followed slowly, and looked on without query. "You bet," he said at length; "the devil's gone out of him." Durgan wondered if that was actually what had happened when Bertha felt the peace of God, and Hermione slept, and the wretched mulatto found ease in death. "He had over-exerted," said the doctor, "and all the tonic went out of the air when the rain fell." Chapter XXXIII THE RESTORATION They went back to Durgan's hut, and made a stretcher of his bed, and brought down his laborers as carriers. A curious group walked slowly up the zig-zag road to the summit house: Durgan and the terrier walked one on each side; the doctor rode behind. There was naught to be said; they walked in silence. Sometimes the eyelids of the still face drooped; again they were opened wide. The wet forest breathed about their silence the whisper of the rain. When the party came in sight of the house gable, someone who was sitting in the window of the sisters' room seemed to see them and moved away. The place was astir for the day. Smoke was rising from the chimneys, and the soft-voiced colored servant was singing to a Southern melody one of the doggerel hymns of her race: "De Lord He sent His angel. (Fly low, sweet angel; Fly low, sweet angel; Comin' for deliver us again.) An' He tamed de lions for Daniel; An' for Peter broke de prison and de chain. O! de angel of de Lord." The servant was at work in an outer kitchen; the very words were clear. The gentle melody of the stanza was ended abruptly by the soft, triumphal shout of the last line. Durgan made the laborers rest their burden within the doorway of the barn, while he went forward with the doctor. But now from the back door Hermione came. She was clad in the simple gray morning gown which she always wore at her housewife's duties; but she looked a shadow of herself, so pale and wan with the pain of the night. She came forward quickly. Durgan saw at a glance that she knew what Bertha could tell, and was ready to meet whatever evil was sufficient for the day. Even at such a moment, so selfless and courteous was she, she had a modest word of greeting and gratitude for Durgan.