er he
pronounced my name. As I leaned over him, and eagerly scanned his
countenance, I perceived that the delirium of fever was gone. The
physician, fearing the effect upon him of the least excitement, made a
motion to me enjoining silence, and mixing a quieting cordial, held it
to his lips. He eagerly quaffed the cooling draught, and again fell into
a quiet slumber. "Now," said the physician, "I have a faint hope that he
may recover, but he is so weak that any excitement would prove fatal;
all depends upon keeping him perfectly quiet for the next few hours."
The doctor departed and again I was left alone to watch over his
slumber. Before morning, anxiety brought Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair to the
room, to learn if there had been any change. In a whisper I informed
them of the favorable symptoms he had evinced upon waking, and persuaded
them again to retire from the apartment. When Arthur again awoke, the
favorable symptoms still continued, and the physician entertained strong
hopes of his recovery. By degrees he was allowed to converse for a few
moments at a time. It seemed to him, he said, as though he had awakened
from a frightful dream; and he begged to know how long he had been ill,
and what had happened during the time. We were all very cautious to say
nothing to excite him; and by degrees as his mind grew stronger,
everything came back clearly to his mind, his father's visit, and the
circumstances which had brought him to the city. It is needless for me
to dwell upon the long period, while he lay helpless as an infant,
watched over by his fond mother, who felt that he had almost been given
back from the dead. But he continued slowly to recover, and being unable
to remain longer, I left his parents with him, and returned to my home
in Littleton, and soon after went back to my employer. Mr. and Mrs.
Sinclair remained with Arthur till he was able to bear the journey to
Littleton, and it was to them a happy day, when they arrived safely at
their home, accompanied by their son, who seemed to them almost as one
restored from the dead. The unfortunate circumstances connected with
Arthur's illness, were a secret locked in the bosoms of the few faithful
friends to whom it was known. Arthur arose from that bed of sickness a
changed man, and it was ever after to him a matter of wonder how he
could have been so far led astray, and he felt the most unbounded
gratitude to Mr. Worthing, for the kindness and consideration he had
shown