"You beast," she flung back, over her shoulder, as she ran. "You beast!

You've killed her!"

Jim did not attempt to follow--or to answer. He had wheeled about, and his face was very pale.

"G.o.d!" he said, in a tense whisper, "_G.o.d_!" It was the first time that the word, upon his lips, was neither mocking nor profane.

Rose-Marie, with tender hands, gathered the child up from the hard floor.

She was not thinking of the miracle that had taken place--she was not thinking of the sound that had come, so unexpectedly, from dumb lips. She only knew that the child was unconscious, perhaps dying. Her trembling fingers felt of the slim wrist; felt almost with apprehension. She was surprised to feel that the pulse was still beating, though faintly.

"Get somebody," she said, tersely, to Jim. "Get somebody who knows--something!"

Jim's face was still the colour of ashes. He did not stir--did not seem to have the power to stir.

"Did yer hear her?" he mouthed thickly. "She _yelled_. I heard her. Did yer hear--"

Rose-Marie was holding Lily close to her breast. Her stern young eyes looked across the drooping golden head into the scared face of the man.

"It was G.o.d, speaking through her," she said. "It was G.o.d. And you--you had denied Him--_you beast_!"

All at once Jim was down upon the floor beside her. The mask of pa.s.sion had slipped from his face--his shoulders seemed suddenly more narrow--his cruel hands almost futile. Rose-Marie wondered, subconsciously, how she had ever feared him.

"She yelled," he reiterated, "_did yer hear her--_"

Rose-Marie clutched the child tighter in her arms.

"Get some one, at once," she ordered, "if you don't want her to die--if you don't want to be a murderer!"

But Jim had not heard her voice. He was sobbing, gustily.

"I'm t'rough," he was sobbing, "t'rough! Oh--G.o.d, fergive--"

It was then that the door opened. And Rose-Marie, raising eyes abrim with relief, saw that Ella and Mrs. Volsky and Bennie stood upon the threshold.

"What's a-matter?" questioned Mrs. Volsky--her voice sodden with grief.

"What's been a-happenin'?" But Ella ran across the s.p.a.ce between them, and knelt in front of Rose-Marie.

"Give 'er t' me!" she breathed fiercely; "she's my sister. Give 'er t' me!"

Silently Rose-Marie handed over the light little figure. But as Ella pillowed the dishevelled head upon her shoulder, she spoke directly to Bennie.

"Run to the Settlement House, as fast as ever you can!" she told him.

"And bring Dr. Blanchard back with you. Hurry, dear--it may mean Lily's life!" And Bennie, with his grimy face tear-streaked, was out of the door and clattering down the stairs before she had finished.

Ella, her mouth agonized and drawn, was the first to speak after Bennie left the room. When she did speak she asked a question.

"Who done this t' her?" she questioned. "_Who done it_?"

Rose-Marie hesitated. She could feel the eyes of Mrs. Volsky, dumb with suffering, upon her--she could feel Jim's rat-like gaze fixed, with a certain appeal, on her face. At last she spoke.

"Jim will tell you!" she said.

If she had expected the man to evade the issue--if she had expected a downright falsehood from him--she was surprised. For Jim's head came up, suddenly, and his eyes met the burning dark ones of his sister.

"I done it," he said, simply, and he scrambled up from the floor, as he spoke. "I kicked her. She come in when I was tryin' t' kiss"--his finger indicated Rose-Marie, "_her_. Lily got in th' way. So I kicked out hard--then--she," he gulped back a shudder, "she _yelled_!"

Ella was suddenly galvanized into action. She was on her feet, with one lithe, pantherlike movement--the child held tight in her arms.

"Yer kicked her," she said softly--and the gentleness of her voice was ominous. "Yer kicked her! An' she yelled--" For the first time the full significance of it struck her. "_She yelled_?" she questioned, whirling to Rose-Marie; "yer don't mean as she made a _sound_?"

Rose-Marie nodded dumbly. It was Jim's voice that went on with the story.

"She ain't dead," he told Ella, piteously. "She ain't dead. An'--I promise yer true--I'll never do such a thing again. I promise yer true!"

Ella took a step toward him. Her face was suddenly lined, and old. "If she dies," she told him, "_if she dies_..." she hesitated, and then--"Much yer promises mean," she shrilled, "much yer promises--"

Rose-Marie had been watching Jim's face. Almost without meaning to she interrupted Ella's flow of speech.

"I think that he means what he says," she told Ella slowly. "I think that he means ... what he says."

For she had seen the birth of something--_that might have been soul_--in Jim's haggard eyes.

The child in Ella's arms stirred, weakly, and was still again. But the movement, slight as it was, made the girl forget her brother. Her dark head bent above the fair one.

"Honey," she whispered, "yer goin' ter get well fer Ella--ain't yer? Yer goin' ter get well--"

The door swung open with a startling suddenness, and Rose-Marie sprang forward, her hands outstretched. Framed in the battered wood stood Bennie--the tears streaking his face--and behind him was the Young Doctor. So tall he seemed, so capable, so strong, standing there, that Rose-Marie felt as if her troubles had been lifted, magically, from her shoulders. All at once she ceased to be afraid--ceased to question the ways of the Almighty. All at once she felt that Lily would get better--that the Volskys would be saved to a better life. And all at once she knew something else. And the consciousness of it looked from her wide eyes.

"You!" she breathed. "_You_!"

And, though she had sent for him, herself, she felt a glad sort of surprise surging through her heart.

The Young Doctor's glance, in her direction, was eloquent. But as his eyes saw the child in Ella's arms his expression became impersonal, again, concentrated, and alert. With one stride he reached Ella's side, and took the tiny figure from her arms.

"What's the matter here?" he questioned sharply.

Rose-Marie was not conscious of the words that she used as she described Lily's accident. She glossed over Jim's part in it as lightly as possible; she told, as quickly as she could, the history of the child.

And as she told it, the doctor's lean capable hands were pa.s.sing, with practiced skill, over the little relaxed body. When she told of the child's deaf and dumb condition she was conscious of his absolute attention--though he did not for a moment stop his work--when she spoke of the scream she saw his start of surprise. But his only words were in the nature of commands. "Bring water"--he ordered, "clean water, in a basin. A _clean_ basin. Bring a sponge"--he corrected himself--"a clean rag will do--only it must be _clean_"--this to Mrs. Volsky, "you _understand?_ Where," his eyes were on Ella's face, "can we lay the child? Is there a _clean_ bed, anywhere?"

Ella was shaking with nervousness as she opened the door of the inner room that she and Lily shared. Mrs. Volsky, carrying the basin of water, was sobbing. Jim, standing in the center of the room, was like a statue--only his haunted eyes were alive. The Young Doctor, glancing from face to face, spoke suddenly to Rose-Marie.

"I hate to ask you," he said simply, "but you seem to be the only one who hasn't gone to pieces. Will you come in here with me?"

Rose-Marie nodded, and she spoke, very softly. "Then you think that I'll be able--to help?" she questioned.

The Young Doctor was remembering--or forgetting--many things.

"I know that you will!" he said, and he spoke as softly as she had done.

"I know that you will!"