"You are better?" inquired a kind voice.
"Have I been ill?" she asked.
"Not ill, exactly," replied the doctor; "you fainted just as I came in
with the watchman to your assistance." Then she remembered it all.
"How is my uncle now, sir?" said May, sitting up, and with a modest
blush gathering up the masses of dark hair which had fallen from her
comb.
"He is doing well now. He is indebted to your energy and presence of
mind for his life," said the doctor.
"Oh, thank God! thank God, that he is better! Do you think, sir, that
he will recover?"
"He may, but it is doubtful. I shall not be able to decide until he
awakes. Meanwhile, lady, lie down, and rest. I will watch."
"I could not sleep, sir; if I could, I would obey your directions; but
I will rest my head on the sofa here, that I may be better able to
attend to my duties to-day," said May, in her earnest, matter-of-fact
sort of way. And the doctor, a young man who was rising rapidly in his
profession--a son of the people, who, through difficulties and rugged
obstacles, and calumny and opposition, had emerged purified, and
conscious of power from it all, and attained an honorable position
professionally and socially, looked at that fragile form, and paid
homage to the right-thinking and right-acting spirit it contained. Her
conduct had been heroic, noble, and evinced so much strength of
character that even he, accustomed to phenomena, mental and physical,
wondered.
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