Our Neighbours in the Corner House CHAPTER 5.
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I then dashed the water into their faces. The effect was more than I had hoped, for a slight gasp followed the shock; and there was a nervous quivering along the neck and about the lips and nostrils of both.
"There is life remaining," I said eagerly. "Send for a doctor!"
"Can a doctor give help now?" The aunt laid her hand on my arm, and looked at me meaningly. I understood her, and turning to the bed, placed my fingers on the wrist of Mrs. Congreve. As I did so, I noticed that her hand was tightly clenched upon something. It was several moments before I could find the lowest motion of life; but it came, an almost imperceptible beat against the sensitive fingers. Was I in error? Had hope and imagination deceived me? No! — there it was again! — softer and feebler than a new-born infant's — now with two or three almost fluttering pulses; and now again in a single throb after a prolonged cessation. Then I laid my hand over the heart of dear little Florry — my eyes grew dim as I looked into her death-hued face. There was no mistaking its muffled beat. I bent down my ear. Yes, she breathed!
"Thank God that we were in time!" I murmured, rising up. "Ten minutes longer, and no human power could have saved them!"
"Must the doctor be called?"
"Wait a little. Perhaps they will revive without his aid."
Even as I spoke, there came a deep sigh from the lips of Mrs. Congreve, followed by a low sound, like a groan. Water was again dashed into both their faces; and this time with much effect. Florry began to show many signs of returning animation.
No one seemed to have noticed the clenched hand of Mrs. Congreve but myself. As I stooped over her again, I saw the edge of a narrow piece of blue ribbon between her closed ringers. Aunt Mary turned away from the bed for some purpose, going to a distant part of the room. Curiosity, even in this dreadful hour, was strong. What was in that hand, clutched and clung to in the very death-hour? My hand was on the woman's insensible hand; I pressed back the fingers — they yielded, and my eyes rested on the picture of a young man; rested for a minute only, but long enough to recognize the face! Suddenly, the fingers of Mrs. Congreve closed again, tightly, on the medallion, and she turned her pale face towards me, which, though the eyes were still shut, showed half-consciousness and feeling.
The pure air which had been passing into the lungs of little Florry, and giving back life again to the exhausted frame, now began to inflate them in fuller volume. Consciousness was restored. Rising up, she looked at us from her large blue eyes in a questioning, frightened way.
"Take me, Aunty!" she cried, stretching out her hands.
Aunt Mary caught her up from the bed, almost smothering her, as she did so, with kisses.
"My precious, precious one!" she murmured, in a low, sobbing voice, and then bore her from the room.
"Aunt Mary!" called Mrs. Congreve, now sitting up in bed, and looking first at me and then at my wife, strangely and in sad bewilderment of thought. "Where is Aunt Mary?" She threw her eyes, half-wildly and with an expression of alarm, about the room.
My wife bent over her and said, in a tone meant to dispel anxiety and alarm:
"She will return in a moment. Lie down again. You are weak and sick."
"Sick, did you say?"
Then her eyes fell suddenly to the hand which still clasped the picture. She opened it, but shut the fingers again with a nervous quickness and hid the hand instantly in her bosom. When it was withdrawn, the palm lay open to sight. I glanced at my wife, and saw by her startled eyes and the paleness of her cheeks, that she had seen the pictured face which had been a little while before, revealed to my wondering vision. Feeling now that my presence was no longer required in the room, and could only be embarrassing, I withdrew without a word. I met Aunt Mary as I came out into the passage.
"How is she?"
"Recovering rapidly," I answered.
"The doctor will not be required?"
"No."
"I am glad of that." Then she stood silent for a little while.
"Don't go yet, sir. I would like to have a few words with you after seeing Edith. Will you remain for a short time?"
I promised to remain, and went downstairs to the parlors, where the gas had been lighted. I felt greatly excited. The picture in the hand of Mrs. Congreve — showing me a face I never could forget — was a new mystery. Where did she get that picture, and what to her — was the unhappy man it represented with such life-like fidelity?
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