Dead and Alive Again
BERT was crouching on the bed close to his sister when the doctor came
into the room. Dead or alive, Prin was Prin, and Bert felt no awe
of her. He was bending over her, and his tears were dropping on her
forehead. The doctor took hold of him forcibly and lifted him from the
bed.
"Come, this won't do," he said. "You must not give way. Just let me
have a look at her. It's all over, they tell me."
Bert made no reply, having no voice at his command. Dr. Hurst touched
Prin's still form, straightened it, and laid his hand on her heart.
Then he uttered a startled cry.
"She lives yet! I can feel her heart beat. Quick, boy, give me the
brandy, quick!"
There was but a small quantity at hand. The doctor succeeded in pouring
it all down his patient's throat; then he called to Bert for water. The
boy flew to fetch it, and to his joy met the nurse at the door. She had
come in time, not to lay out the dead, but to help to revive the living.
Doctor and nurse worked together in breathless excitement for some
minutes. Their efforts were rewarded. Hope grew as they worked, till,
after about a quarter of an hour, the girl drew a deep, natural breath,
and opened her eyes.
"She will live," whispered the doctor; and Bert caught the words, and
ran out of the room, that he might sob freely.
The nurse sat up with the patient that night, for her weakness was
extreme, and she might yet slip away if she were not assiduously cared
for. But the hours of the night brought no relapse, and the morning
found Prin better.
"She'll do now," said Dr. Hurst, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.
"It's the narrowest escape I ever saw. If I had come in a minute later,
it might have been too late.
"Don't you be in such a hurry to jump to conclusions another time,
young man," he added, as he turned to Bert; "but there! We'll hope
there'll be no more times such as this."
Bert devoutly hoped so too. Yet thankful as he was that Prin was
restored to life, there was a burden on the boy's mind as he thought of
the future.
"Will the police want her now, sir?" he asked anxiously of the doctor.
"Ah, the police!" said Dr. Hurst, looking grave. "That is a bad
business. So, she was only a sham princess after all!"
"Of course she was never a real one," said Bert.
"Ah! But she might have been!" said the doctor. "'Tis only noble to be
good. Every good, true woman is of royal lineage, no matter who her
parents were."
"And Prin was not good and true," said Bert sadly; "I will never call
her Princess again."
"Don't say that," said Dr. Hurst; "she may be worthy of the title yet.
She has life before her, and may live to be thankful for the fall which
taught her the misery of wrong-doing. Do you know, lad, there is a
ladder by which men and women may climb upwards, and the rungs of that
ladder are formed of the mistakes and sins of the past? It is painful
climbing for most of us; but she is young, and it will be easier for
her."
"Oh, I hope so," said Bert, only half-grasping the meaning of the
doctor's words.
Just then there was a rap on the door. Bert ran to open it. A gentleman
stood in the narrow space at the foot of the steps. His bearing was
such that he looked strangely out of place in that dingy spot, and
catching sight of him, the doctor hastened forward.
"Is there not a girl lying dead here whose name was Sinclair?" he
asked, with some hesitation of manner.
"Not dead, sir!" cried Bert excitedly. "She's come to life again."
"Indeed!" said the gentleman, in amazement. "A police officer called at
my house last night and told me she was dead."
Then the doctor stepping out and closing the door behind him, lest
their words should reach the ears of his patient, began to explain
Bert's extraordinary statement.
The gentleman listened in astonishment. "I should have thought the
policeman might have known," he said.
"So should I," said the doctor; "but—" He shrugged his shoulders
expressively.
"Well, I am glad the poor girl still lives," said the gentleman. "Can I
see her?"
The doctor shook his head. "I dare not risk the effect of excitement,"
he said.
"No doubt you are right," said the gentleman. "I must wait till another
time. I am Lord Ravenscourt. The policeman brought me last night the
diamond brooch found here, which the girl stole from my daughter."
He spoke quietly and sadly.
"Oh, sir!" broke in Bert, who stood between them, his tones quivering
with emotion. "Please don't send Prin to prison! She's so sorry now
that she took the brooch. She told me last night, before she died, as
I thought, how sorry she was, and begged me to take the brooch back to
Lady Millicent and ask her to forgive her. Oh, sir, will you ask Lady
Millicent to forgive Prin? And if some one must go to prison, please
let it be me!"
For a moment Lord Ravenscourt did not reply. Tears seemed to be
glistening in his eyes when he said very gently,—
"Do not be afraid, my boy. Neither you nor your sister shall go
to prison. But it is not in my power to give your message to Lady
Millicent. She is in heaven. She passed away last evening."
"Last evening! And it was at that time that Prin had believed that she
had a visit from Lady Millicent!" Bert marvelled; but he could not
speak of that which was in his mind.
There was a silence which appeared long to all three, though it lasted
only a few moments. Then Lord Ravenscourt said, speaking with an
effort: "You may assure your sister of Lady Millicent's forgiveness.
She loved her to the last, although she made such a base return for
her love. It was the discovery of that which hastened my daughter's
end. But we will not speak of it. Lady Millicent asked me to tell your
sister that she forgave her and hoped to meet her in heaven. A week
ago my daughter made her little will. She wanted to leave your sister
the diamond brooch, because she knew how much she admired it; but I
persuaded her that it would not be a suitable bequest, and a sum of
money was substituted, to be spent on the girl's education."
Lord Ravenscourt paused abruptly. He became aware that he was speaking
to a larger audience than he had imagined. Children were swarming on
the pavement and hanging over the railings of the area. Women stood
in the doorway above his head; others leaned out of the windows of
the house. From every possible point of view, persons of more or less
doubtful respectability were watching the strange gentleman, and
straining their ears to hear what he was saying.
"I must go," said Lord Ravenscourt to the doctor. "You will let me know
as soon as it is safe to move your patient. We must take her down to
the country again. And the boy too. We must see what we can do for him."
Then he hurried up the steps, the crowd scattering to right and left at
his approach, sprang into his hansom, and drove away.
"You may consider your fortune made, young man," said the doctor
gleefully, as he and Bert went back into the room. Lord Ravenscourt's
coming was to prove a good thing for him also, but that he could not
foresee.
His foresight concerning the children proved true. Lord Ravenscourt was
a good friend to them for his daughter's sake. Bert never knew again
what it was to be lonely and ragged and hungry.
Prin's repentance was genuine. As she regained health and strength, her
life was lived on a higher level. Her feet were on the ladder the top
of which reaches to heaven, and she was seeking to follow in the steps
of Lady Millicent, who had followed Christ.
Bert from time to time had good news of his old friend, Mr. Corney, or,
as he now signed his letters, "Cornelius Theophilus Grant." His hopes
for his sister were fulfilled, and she too was climbing the ladder and
trampling under foot the sins of the past, strengthened by the Mighty
Friend, whose hand she grasped as she toiled upward.
Bert could never forget the experiences of his childhood, nor lose his
vivid consciousness of the evil that ruins human lives. His strongest
desire as he grew up was to fight that evil—the evil within as well as
that without—trusting for the victory to Him, whose is the "kingdom,
and the power, and the glory, for ever."
THE END.
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.