Happy he over whose cradle it has bent, and who, nearing the
grave, shalt have such a one upon whose bosom he may close his weary
eyes.
When Christian saw her husband, she stirred, and put up a linger far
silence, Dr. Grey crossed the room, trying hard to make his step light
and noiseless, but piteously failing in the attempt. Still Arthur was not
disturbed.
"He sleeps sound, Christian. Does he suffer very much, do you think?"
"Not now."
"Will he ever recover?"
"I hope so. Oh, please God, I trust so! Dr. Anstruther said there was
no reason why he should not."
"And you--you think so too?" with a touching appeal.
"Yes, I do think so"
Dr. Grey seemed relieved. In a kind of helpless, childlike way, he
stood behind her and watched all she did for the child, who waked
thirsty, and cried and moaned, but by-and--by was soothed to sleep
again.
His father shuddered as he gazed upon him.
"He looks as if he were dead--my poor boy!"
"You must not look at him, You must go to bed," said Christian, with a
gentle authority.
"Presently. And you--are you not afraid to sit up here alone?"
"Oh no."
"You never seem to be afraid of any thing."
"Not of much--I have gone through such a deal" said Christian, with a
faint smile.
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