A slight movement on the part of the prostrate man called Phillip to
the bedside.
Mr. Verne had awoke to consciousness, and no doubt had listened to
the words so lately uttered.
A smile was upon his face as he extended his left hand to Mr.
Lawson, and tried hard to regain his speech.
"Do not exert yourself, sir," said the latter putting his arm around
the invalid with the tenderness of a woman. "All you must do is try
to get a little stronger before Miss Verne arrives, after that you
will be all right. It is enough to make any one sick to be alone in
this big house."
Mrs. Montgomery watched the effect of the speech and felt sore at
heart. "Poor man," thought she, "he will never live to see it," and
as she looked a second time saw that Mr. Verne had suddenly relapsed
into that comatose state sadly akin to death.
"Thy will be done," murmured the watcher, and tenderly replacing the
coverlid committed the prostrate form to the mercy of an Almighty
Father.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DARK HOURS INDEED.
It is nearly midnight. Mrs. Verne had been prevailed upon (to use
her own words) to attend a musical soiree given by a fashionable
young matron in honor of her fifth wedding anniversary.
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