CHAPTER XII.--THE PHYSICIAN'S VERDICT.
Sir Wilfrid Wynne gave his verdict, and it was almost a repetition ofwhat Dr. Burton had said. He could do nothing. There was little hopehe would regain consciousness. If he did, it would be but a passingflash before the end. He might linger in his present conditiontwenty-four hours or longer; and he might pass away any moment without astruggle. It would be cruel to wish him to live; the shock to the spinehad been so great, if he lived, he would inevitably lose the use of hislower limbs. Sir Wilfrid was grieved; he had known the boy's father. Hewould gladly have remained, had there been any hope of doing anythingfor him. He took his departure by motor-car to catch the mail train at ajunction ten miles distant.
Mrs. Mandeville returned to her place by the bedside, calm and still,after her paroxysm of weeping. Colonel Mandeville was with her, andpresently the Rector came into the room.
"Raymond, pray for him," Mrs. Mandeville said. "He is in God's hands.No human power can help him."
They all knelt and the Rector prayed aloud. He did not petition for theboy's life to be spared. He humbly asked that the hearts of those wholoved him might be submissive to God's all-wise decree. "Thy will bedone," was the dominant note of the prayer. When they rose from theirknees, there was an expression on Mrs. Mandeville's face which no onehad ever seen before. The prayer had not helped her: it was notsubmission nor resignation in any degree which had come to her. Sheturned to the Rector.
"I do not believe it, Raymond. This is _not_ God's will. God could notorder anything so cruel to befall a child, so loving and dutiful--whosefaith in God's loving care of him has always been so beautiful to me towitness. Could I, who know only human love, suffer anything like thisto befall my little Rosebud, or any of my children? Is human love morepitiful and compassionate than divine love? This dear boy could easilyhave saved himself; he stood between the cruel beast and my littlegirls. All three of them might be lying as he is lying now but for hisself-sacrifice. Don't tell me it is God's will! If I could believe it,I would wish I were a heathen, and worshipped a god of wood and stone!"
The Rector could only gaze in pained astonishment. Such an outburst wasso unlike his usually calm and gentle sister. He judged she was besideherself with grief. She stood with clasped hands, wide-open eyes,unseeing, yet seeing, gazing beyond the confines of that room, catchinga momentary vision of that light which 'never was, on land or sea.'
She became calm again--serenely calm.
"I see it," she said. "I understand. This is _not_ God's will. It isnot _His_ work. His compassions fail not. His love is over all Hischildren. With Him is the Fountain of Life. Does He not say, 'I willredeem them from death'? He will save this dear child from the grave.Leave me, please. I want to be alone--alone with Carol and God. I wantto realize it. Yes; _God's will be done_. Life, not death, is God'swill. I see it, I see so clearly."
To her husband she said softly, "I will ring if I want anything, dear.Don't let anyone come into the room until I ring."
When all had left the room, and the door was closed, she knelt besidethe bed, with outstretched arms. It was a mother's cry to God for thelife of a child that was as dear to her as her own. Hour after hourpassed, and still she knelt. Words failed her, petition ceased: therealization came to her that God is Life: in Him we live, and move, andhave our being. In Infinite Life there is no death. Death never is,and never can be God's will. The knowledge, the understanding of God asAll-in-all vanquishes death! "O, death, I will be thy plagues. O,grave, I will be thy destruction!" (Hosea XIII., 14.)
The morning dawned, the bright sunbeams stole into the room. The boyopened his eyes. "Auntie,"--she was bending over him--"I have beendreaming. I thought I was in a field, and a bull tossed me high up intothe air. But I knew in my dream, 'underneath are the everlasting arms.'Then I dreamed again, and two men were turning me about, and moving myarms and legs, and one said, 'There is not a broken bone, nor even adislocation. It's a miracle.' I tried to say 'underneath are theeverlasting arms,' but I could not speak."
The words were very faint and low. She bent close to catch them, thenstopped them with a kiss, a paean of joy in her heart. He spoke again:"Auntie, something is hurting me very much. I can't move."
"Do not try, darling, lie quite still. I will sit beside you and holdyour hand."
A spasm of pain passed over his face, and he fell again intounconsciousness. But she had no fear, she knew that death had beenvanquished by the knowledge that had come to her of life.
A low knock came to the door. She opened it, and found her maid therewith a cup of tea. She took it from her saying: "Tell them all helives, and he will live. But I wish to be alone with him for thepresent. No one is to trouble about me, I am quite well."
So she sat down again beside him, waiting and patiently watching,knowing that he would awake again to consciousness. It was nearly noonwhen he opened his eyes and spoke again. His voice was stronger:
"Auntie, was it a waking dream? Was I really in a field, and a bulltossed me? I am so aching all over me."
"Yes, darling."
"I think I remember now, Auntie. Rosebud and Estelle and Sylvia werethere, and Jane called to me, 'Run, run!' They were not hurt, werethey?"
"No, darling, not one of them."
"I am glad. Error is telling me I cannot move my legs and arms, Auntie.But it is not true. God's child cannot be bound like that. Does CousinAlicia know?"
"I am sorry, Carol. I fear no one has thought to send her word."
"Will you send word now, Auntie--something quicker than a letter?"
"A telegram, dear?"
"Yes, Auntie, and put in, 'Please help Carol'."
"I will ask Uncle to send the message at once, dear."
When she opened the bedroom door, she found Colonel Mandeville pacingthe corridor without. As a sentinel he had kept watch there throughoutthe night and a great part of the morning. He came into the room, andstood with one arm around his wife, looking down at Carol.
"Well, little man, so we are going to cheat the doctors?"
Carol didn't at all know what 'cheat' meant.
"Carol wishes you to let Miss Desmond know, dear. Will you wire atonce? And say in the message, 'Please help Carol.' She will know whathe means."
"I will gladly do so. Dr. Burton is downstairs, Emmeline. He hadbetter come up now."
An expression of distress came over Carol's face.
"Auntie," he said, "don't let the doctor do anything to me, please."
"No one shall touch you, dear. But I should like Dr. Burton just to seeyou. He will tell me what I may give you to eat."
"I don't want anything, Auntie, only something to drink."
"Well, dear, he will tell me what will be best for you to have."
"I would like only water, please."
"You shall have some, dear, at once, and after that something else, Ihope."
Dr. Burton came to the room, felt the patient's pulse, took histemperature, and looked at his tongue, but mercifully refrained fromturning him about, to examine the bruises.
"I will send some medicine at once," he said to Mrs. Mandeville. "Givehim a dose every hour. He has a very high temperature."
Downstairs he told Colonel Mandeville: "He may pull through ifmeningitis does not supervene."
But he left the house holding a very strong belief that meningitis wouldsupervene. Not even the medicine, which was to be given every hour,could prevent it.