"I cannot understand how it is that she is not dead!" he said at
last--"It is a miracle! This is a stab inflicted with some sharply
pointed instrument,--probably a dagger--and was no doubt intended to
be mortal. As it is, it is dangerous--but there is a chance of
life." Then he addressed himself to Angela, who was looking at him
with wide-open eyes and a most piteous expression. "Do you know me,
my child?"
"Oh, yes, doctor!" she murmured faintly.
"Do you suffer much pain?"
"No."
"Then can you tell me how this happened? Who stabbed you?"
She shuddered and sighed.
"No one!--that I can remember!"
Her eyes closed--she moved her hands about restlessly as though
seeking for something she had lost.
"Manuel!"
"I am here!" answered the boy gently.
"Stay with me! I am so tired!"
Again a convulsive trembling shook her fragile body from head to
foot, and again she sighed as though her heart were breaking,--then
she lay passively still, though one or two tears crept down her
cheeks as they carried her tenderly up to her own room and laid her
down on her simple little white bed, softly curtained, and guarded
by a statue of the Virgin bending over it. There, when her cruel
wound was dressed and bandaged, and the physician had given her a
composing draught, she fell into a deep, refreshing slumber, and
only Manuel stayed beside her as she slept.
Pages:
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696