Now the sphere of his loving, innocent
child seemed to have overcome, at least for the time, the evil
influences that were getting possession even of his external
senses. Yes, yes, he was sleeping! Oh, what a fervent "Thank God!"
went up from the heart of his stricken wife.
Soon the quick ears of Mrs. Morgan detected the doctor's
approaching footsteps, and she met him at the door with a finger
on her lips. A whispered word or two explained the better aspect
of affairs, and the doctor said, encouragingly:
"That's good, if he will only sleep on."
"Do you think he will, doctor?" was asked anxiously.
"He may. But we cannot hope too strongly. It would be something
very unusual."
Both passed noiselessly into the chamber. Morgan still slept, and
by his deep breathing it was plain that he slept soundly. And
Mary, too, was sleeping, her face now laid against her father's,
and her arms still about his neck. The sight touched even the
doctor's heart and moistened his eyes. For nearly half an hour he
remained; and then, as Morgan continued to sleep, he left medicine
to be given immediately, and went home, promising to call early in
the morning.
It is now past midnight, and we leave the lonely, sad-hearted
watcher with her sick ones.
I was sitting, with a newspaper in my hand--not reading, but
musing--at the "Sickle and Sheaf," late in the evening marked by
the incidents just detailed.
"Where's your mother?" I heard Simon Slade inquire.
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