Winning His Way Part 19

The throbbing of her heart was like the fluttering of a frightened bird.

Sweet, calm, and beautiful as the setting sun was the smile upon his face, and in his eyes the celestial light of Peace! They closed, and he lay again as if in slumber.

"They told me that you were dead," she said.

There was no reply; she laid her hand upon his heart, but could feel no beating there; touched her fingers to his fleshless wrist, but could find no throbbing of the pulse. The thin blood was receding from his colorless lips,--the tide was going out. "Doctor! Doctor! O come quick!

Save him!" she cried.

The doctor came and gazed upon the face of Paul. "He is not quite gone,"

he said, then moistened his lips with brandy. There was a quickening of the pulse. "If he rallies from this, we may save him," he said.

They wrapped him in warm flannels, rubbed his fleshless limbs, and gave him cordials, drop by drop. How long the hours,--the weary hours of hope and fear,--of expectation and distress,--while the faltering spirit, as if tired of earth, was but fluttering awhile along the sh.o.r.e of Time before taking its returnless flight over the dark and silent river to another land! Through the night Azalia sat by his side, watching him with sleepless eyes, fanning his pale brow. The morning sun beamed upon her still sitting there. Those who were accustomed to watch for her appearance in the early morning, restless with fever, beheld her as clothed with celestial brightness, and said one to another, "There sits our Angel of Light!"

Through the day she was there, watching the slow heavings of his heart, holding her breath while listening to a.s.sure herself that he was still breathing; hoping and fearing, holding her hands at times upon her own heart to still its wild, tumultuous beating,--giving him atom by atom the needful nourishment,--bending over him to smooth his pillow,--opening the cas.e.m.e.nt for the winds to blow upon his bloodless cheek,--thus s.n.a.t.c.hing him from the very jaws of death and winning him back to life!

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOME.

A despatch came clicking into the telegraph office in New Hope that Paul Parker was alive,--that he had been a prisoner at Andersonville, was very feeble, but in a fair way to get well, and would soon be at home.

It was from Azalia. Mr. Magnet read it in amazement, then ran as fast as he could to carry it to the little old cottage. "Good news!" he shouted, rushing into the house out of breath, without knocking. "Paul is alive!

Paul is alive!"

"My son alive!" exclaimed Mrs. Parker, her heart leaping wildly.

"Yes; there is the despatch."

She read it in fear and trembling, her brain in a whirl. She must fly to him! O if she only had wings! Paul alive! The old clock took up the word, "Alive,--alive,--alive," it said. A robin perched in the great maple sang all day, "He is coming home,--is coming home," while the swallows from their nests under the eaves looked into the old kitchen through the open door, twittering together, as if saying, "How glad we are!" Never so bright the sunshine as on that morning, nor so fragrant the flowers! All nature was glad, and rejoiced in her joy.

Mr. Magnet told the news through the village, the people listening in wonder. Mr. Chrome threw down his paint-brush, took off his old hat, swung it over his head, and gave three cheers. Through the day he kept saying to himself, "That beats the Dutch!" The children ran through the streets shouting, "Paul is alive! Paul is alive!" Father Surplice, Judge Adams, Colonel Dare, and the neighbors--a dozen at a time--went down to shake hands with Paul's mother, making it such a day of gladness as never was known before in New Hope.

Impatiently they waited for the day when Paul would be with them again.

"We will let him know that we have not forgotten him," said Colonel Dare; "but it is little that we can do for one who has suffered so much."

So also said Judge Adams, and Mr. Capias, and all the people.

The day came at last. He was on board the train, feeble and weak, but Azalia was by his side, supporting his weary head,--sustaining him when his strength was gone. All New Hope was at the depot to receive him, looking with eager eyes down the level track to see the approaching train when it rounded the distant curve.

"It is coming! There it is!" shouted the boys. They loved him, their dear old teacher. The train stopped, and the conductor came out with Paul leaning on his arm, Azalia following. The people were going to hurrah, but when they saw how poor, pale, and emaciated he was, how thin his cheeks, how hollow and sunken his eyes, how languid and weary, how little there was left of one who once was so manly, they held their breaths, and felt a strange choking in their throats.

Blessed the meeting of mother and son! He had come back from the grave.

He was even then almost a corpse, but he was alive! She had no words to utter; her joy was silent and deep. She could only clasp him in her arms, fold him to her heart, and, looking up to heaven, with streaming eyes, give silent thanks to G.o.d.

The people bowed their heads and stood in silent reverence. Colonel Dare came with his carriage. Mr. Chrome took Paul in his arms, and lifted him into it as if he was but a child. The people came one after another and touched his hands. The children brought flowers and laid them in his arms. They all had words of welcome for Azalia. She had saved him. "G.o.d bless you, darling!" said her father, kissing her cheeks, still round and fair, though watching, anxiety, care, and sorrow had robbed them of the bright bloom of other days.

"The Lord sent you in the way, as he sent Joseph into Egypt," said Father Surplice.

Deep, tender, and hearty the love of friends! Daphne came with choicest delicacies. How pleasant to hear her voice! How cheery her laugh! Mr.

Noggin brought a box of his best honey. Mr. Chrome, who loved to hunt and fish, brought quails and pigeons. Even Miss Dobb sent up to know if there was not something that she could get for him. The birds came, the robins and swallows, singing and twittering and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with joy.

How enchanting the music which came swelling up the valley from the water by the mill, from the woods beyond the river, from the crickets in the fields, from the church-bell, blending with the night airs, and filling his soul with peace! But more blessed than everything else on earth was the holy light which beamed upon him from Azalia's eyes, which went down deep into his soul.

"You have always been my angel of light and goodness, and nothing but death shall part us," he said, as she sat by his side.

"I am glad if I have helped you, Paul," she said, laying her soft hand upon his brow, and kissing his lips. Pure and true the love which had deepened through many years, which had beamed from each other's eyes, but which till then had never been spoken. Like a brook gushing from springs in distant mountains, so, far back in childhood, had been the beginning of their affection, and now it was a river.

Day by day his strength returned, the flesh came again upon his wasted limbs, and health bloomed upon his cheeks. Then they walked together in the garden, talking of the dear old times, and looking onward to a future more golden than the sunniest day of all the past.