She went from the one
to the other, wringing her hands in dry agony, feeling for life in
their hearts and pulses, and kissing their lips with an expression of
hopelessness so pitiable and mournful, that the grief of the servants
was occasioned more by her sufferings than by the double catastrophe
that had occurred.
The doctor's house, as it happened, was not far from theirs, and in a
very brief period he arrived.
"Heavens! Mrs. Maguire, what has happened?" said he, looking on the two
apparently inanimate bodies with alarm.
"His father," she said, pointing to the boy, "being in a state of drink,
threw a little beech chair at the apprentice here, he stepped aside, as
was natural, and the blow struck my treasure there," she said, holding
her hand over the spot where he was struck, but not on it; "but, doctor,
look at his father, the blood is trickling out of his mouth."
The doctor, after examining into the state of both, told her not to
despair--
"Your husband," said he, "who is only in a fit, has broken a
blood-vessel, I think some small blood-vessel is broken; but as for the
boy, I can as yet pronounce no certain opinion upon him. It will be a
satisfaction to you, however, to know that he is not dead, but only in a
heavy stupor occasioned by the blow."
It was now that her tears began to flow, and copiously and bitterly they
did flow; but as there was still hope, her grief, though bitter, was not
that of despair.
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