Margaret glanced hastily at the bed, saw the pale face and streaming blood, and wringing her hands together, with a low outcry hastened away.

Fritz Deyke knelt before the bed, and with a handkerchief wiped away the blood from the lieutenant's mouth, repeating again and again, "My G.o.d! my G.o.d! his poor mother!"

The candidate went into the adjoining room, and seized his hat; then he suddenly determined to remain; he stood still for a moment, and then seated himself so that he could see into the sick-room.

Margaret had hastened out; she knew the way that the surgeon had taken with the ladies, and flew after him. She soon saw him near the first houses of the little town. He had led the ladies to a shady alley, and was taking leave of them, as he wished to return to his other patients.

The young maiden was quite breathless when she reached him. The surgeon looked at her with amazement, Helena's eyes were fixed upon her in anxious fear.

"For G.o.d's sake, sir!" cried Margaret, struggling for breath enough to bring out her words, "I think--I fear--the poor lieutenant--"

"What has happened?" cried the surgeon, in alarm.

"I fear he is dead," gasped Margaret. "Come, quick! quick!"

Madame von Wendenstein seized the surgeon's arm, as if seeking a support, but she hastened along in silence, really hurrying the doctor with her; he was endeavouring to gain from Margaret some particulars of this unexpected seizure.

Helena rushed on first, and her flying feet scarcely touched the ground. She uttered one cry when Margaret gave her terrible message, then she fled with vacant eyes through the streets, until she came to old Lohmeier's house, and flying up the stairs, reached the lieutenant's room.

She paused for a moment at the threshold, sighed deeply, and pressed both her hands against her breast. Then she opened the door, and stood gazing on the young man's deathlike face. Nothing had changed, and Fritz Deyke stood before him, carefully removing the blood that streamed from his lips with a white handkerchief.

Fritz raised his head and turned round. When he saw Helena standing there an image of silent despair, he comprehended that her sorrow was greater than his own. He rose slowly, and said, in a low, trembling voice,--

"I think the good G.o.d has called him; come, Miss Helena, if anyone can awake him, you can!"

And gently seizing her hand he led her to the bed.

She sank upon her knees, and taking the lieutenant's hand pressed it to her lips, breathing on it with her warm breath; her sad, tearless eyes were fixed upon his face, and her lips sometimes moved, repeating the same whispered words, "Oh! my G.o.d! let me follow him!"

Thus they continued motionless for some time--Helena crouched beside the bed, Fritz Deyke standing near her, and regarding her with great emotion, as he brushed away the tears with the back of his hand. The candidate sat in the adjoining room, with an expression of deep sympathy upon his features, his hands folded, and his lips moving as if in silent prayer.

Then came the surgeon and the two ladies.

Madame von Wendenstein was about to hasten to her son's bedside, but the surgeon held her back gravely, almost roughly.

"No one can be of any use here but myself," he said energetically; "the sick belong to me. Ladies must leave the room; if they are wanted, I will call them."

Fritz gently pushed Madame von Wendenstein and her daughter into the adjoining room; Helena rose quietly, and seated herself at some distance.

The surgeon approached the bed; he carefully examined the sick man's face, looked at the wound, and held his hand for a long time upon his heart, gazing at his watch at the same time.

The candidate went up to Madame von Wendenstein, who had sunk upon a chair, her face covered with her hands.

"Compose yourself, much honoured lady," he said in his gentlest voice; "all hope is not yet over, and if it is the will of Providence to put a period to your son's life, you must think how many, many parents have to bear the same, and often even greater sorrow."

Madame von Wendenstein only replied by her sobs.

The old surgeon now returned to the ladies. Scarcely had he left the bed, when Helena returned to her place, and again taking the hand strove to warm it with her breath.

"It is a frightful crisis," said the doctor; "I cannot understand its cause, but alas! it leaves us little hope. We must be prepared for the worst; but the heart still beats, and as long as there is a spark of life a physician does not despair. There is really nothing to be done; if nature does not help herself, our knowledge is powerless. But how,"

he continued, turning to the candidate, "did this alarming crisis come on? My patient was perfectly quiet when I last saw him."

"He continued so," said the candidate, "for some time after I had taken my place beside his bed; he awoke from a deep sleep, I gave him some drink, and he appeared quite well; whilst I was endeavouring to refresh his soul with spiritual consolation, a convulsive movement came on, followed by this gush of blood. It was quick and sudden."

"Well, well," said the surgeon, "what I hoped might proceed gently and gradually has taken place suddenly, from a violent nervous crisis setting free the blood collected in the vessels. It is scarcely possible that this can have happened without causing serious mischief, besides the frightful effect upon the nerves. Did you talk to him much?" he asked, looking firmly at the candidate.

"I said," he replied, folding his hands, "what my calling requires me to say to the sick, I hardly know whether he understood me."

"Forgive me, sir," said the surgeon, in a brusque voice, shaking his head, "I am not one of those who despise religion, and from my heart I believe that all help comes from G.o.d; but in this case it really would have been better to let him sleep."

"The word of G.o.d, with its wondrous power, is never out of place,"

replied the candidate in a cold tone of conviction, raising his eyes with a pious expression.

"My G.o.d! my G.o.d!" cried Helena from the next room, in a loud, half-frightened, half-joyful voice, "he lives, he wakes!"

They all hastened into the room; the physician went to the head of the bed, whilst Helena still knelt and pressed the lieutenant's hand to her lips.

He had opened his eyes, and turned a wondering look from one face to another, as if surprised at the excitement he saw on every countenance.

"What has happened?" he asked in a low, but perfectly clear voice, whilst a slight flow of blood still came from his lips. "I have had a bad, bad dream,--I thought I was dying."

His eyes closed again.

The surgeon raised the pillows that supported his head, gently took his hand from Helena, and examined his pulse.

"A gla.s.s of wine," he cried.

Fritz Deyke hurried away, and returned in a moment with a gla.s.s of old dark red wine.

The surgeon held it to his patient's lips. He drank it eagerly to the last drop.

In trembling anxiety they all awaited the result. Helena's face was as pale as marble; her soul lay in her eyes.

After a short time a tinge of colour came to von Wendenstein's cheek, a deep sigh heaved his breast, and he opened his eyes.

They rested on Helena, and a smile pa.s.sed over his face.

"Draw a deep breath," said the doctor.

He did so immediately.

"Does it hurt you?"

The young officer shook his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on Helena.

The doctor again felt his pulse, laid his hand on his brow, and listened attentively to his breathing.

He then went up to Madame von Wendenstein, and said, as he held out his hand to her with a joyful smile, "Nature has conquered this violent crisis, now only rest and nourishment are needed; thank G.o.d, your son is saved!"