For a little while there was a dreadful commotion down there in the hall. Hannah and cook had come, too, by this time, and everybody was crying, and rushing about, and all talking at once,--telling everybody else what to do. Poor Nonie was awfully frightened; at first she couldn't do a thing but cry, and I was just as bad,--I'd got to that pitch that I didn't care who saw my tears.

But nurse kept her head splendidly; generally she gets all worked up over the least little sickness, but this time she kept cool, and told us what to do.

"Don't talk so foolish, Master Phil!" she exclaimed sharply, when Phil said that awful thing about Fee. "Ain't you ashamed of yourself,--frightening your sister that way! He ain't no more dead 'n you are."

Well, if you'd seen the look of hope that flashed into Phil's face! "Oh, nurse!" he gasped, "do you _honestly_ think so? But he isn't breathing,--I can't feel his heart beat."

"That's 'cause he's in a swoond," nurse answered briskly. "Here, lay him down flat. Now rub his feet--_hard_; Hannah, slap his palms,--that'll start up a cirkilation. Here, Miss Nora, fan your brother. Cook, fill them hot-water bottles; if the water in the biler ain't hot 'nough, start your fire _immejiate_. Master Jack, you run for the doctor; an' if he can't come," she added, dropping her voice so that only I heard her, "get another. Don't you come back here without _somebody_. An' be quick's you can."

That told me that she wasn't as sure about Fee as she pretended to be, and the hope that had come up in my heart died right out. My eyes got so blinded with tears that I just had to grope for my hat; but as I was opening the outer door, I heard something that brought me in again in double quick time.

It was a cry from Phil,--a shout of joy: "He _is_ breathing! Oh, he's _breathing_! His eyes are opening!"

Sure enough, they were. Slowly the heavy lids raised, and Fee's near-sighted eyes looked blankly up at Phil.

"Don't you know me, old fellow?" Phil asked with a break in his voice, bending eagerly over Felix.

A sweet little smile flickered over Fee's lips. "Phil," he said faintly; and then, with what we could all see was a great effort, he raised his hand slowly and let it fall heavily on Phil's hand.

Poor Phil! that broke him down completely. Catching Fee's face between his two hands, he kissed him warmly two or three times, and then, dropping his head down on Fee's shoulder, burst into a storm of sobs.

"Oh, come, come! this'll _never_ do!" cried nurse, bustling forward.

"Come, Master Phil, this ain't any time for sich behaviour,"--mind you, she was wiping the corners of her own eyes! "Now we must get him up to his own room soon's possible; _then_ we can make him comfort'ble. Can you carry him up? Me and Hannah can help."

"I can do it alone," Phil said quickly, beginning to gather Fee into his arms. But I tell you it was hard work getting him up, he was such a dead weight!

Fee knew Phil was making a desperate effort to lift him, and he tried, poor fellow, to help all he could. When at last Phil stood erect, with him in his arms, nurse raised Fee's hands and joined them back of Phil's neck. "Now clasp your hands tight, Master Felix," she said, "and that'll take some of your weight off your brother."

Fee's hands were actually resting one on the other, and I saw his fingers move feebly, trying to take hold of one another. Then he said in a slow, frightened whisper, "I--can't--make--them--hold!" and his arms slipped down, one of them swinging helplessly by his side, until nurse laid it in his lap.

"Never mind, don't worry about that, Fee; I can get you up," Phil said cheerfully. "Why, don't you remember I took you almost up to your room the other night?"

Nora and I looked at each other. I know we were both thinking of the same thing,--that happy evening when we heard of aunt Lindsay's plan for Fee, and when Phil had picked Felix up and run so gaily up the stairs with him, singing. Was it possible that was only three or four evenings ago! It seemed _years_.

"Run for the doctor, Master Jack--_don't_ loiter," nurse said, as she fell in with the procession that was moving so slowly up the stairs; Phil was going one step at a time, and sometimes sliding himself along against the banister to rest the weight he was carrying.

I rushed out and up to Dr. Archard's as fast as I could go. The streets through which I went were very lonely,--I scarcely met a creature,--but I didn't mind; in fact, the stillness, and the stars shining so clear and bright in the quiet sky, seemed to do me good. I knew Who was up there above those shining stars; I thought of the poor lame man that He had healed long ago, and as I raced along, I just _prayed_ that He would help our Fee.

Dr. Archard was away, out of town, the sleepy boy who answered the bell told me; but Dr. Gordon, his a.s.sistant, was in,--would he do?

I didn't know him at all,--he'd come since papa's illness; but of course I said yes, and in a few minutes the doctor was ready and we started.

He had a nice face,--he was years younger than Dr. Archard,--and as we hurried toward home and began talking of Felix, I suddenly made up my mind that I would tell him about the attack Fee had had when papa was so ill. That promise of mine not to speak of it had always worried me, and now, all at once, a feeling came over me that I just _ought_ to tell Dr.

Gordon everything about it,--and I did.

He asked a lot of questions, and when I finished he said gravely, "You have done very right in telling me of this; the knowledge of this former attack and his symptoms will help me in treating your brother's case."

"Is it the same trouble?" I asked eagerly.

"Certain symptoms which you have described point that way," he answered; "but of course I can say nothing until I have seen and examined him."

"Could such an accident"--I'd told him that Fee had struck his back against a chair and then fallen--"do anybody--_harm_?" My heart was thumping as I put the question.

"Under some circ.u.mstances, serious harm," the doctor said. And just then--before I could say anything more--we came to our stoop, and there was Hannah holding the door open for us to go in.

The doctor turned every one out of Fee's room but Phil and nurse; and he was in there an awful long time. And while Nonie and I sat on the upper stairs waiting for news, what did I do but fall _asleep_! and I didn't wake up until the next morning, when I found myself in my own bed. It seems that Phil had undressed and put me to bed, though I didn't remember a thing about it. I felt dreadfully ashamed to have gone to sleep without hearing how Fee was, but you see I was so dead tired, that I suppose I really _couldn't_ keep awake.

Did you ever wake up in the morning with a strange sort of feeling as if there was a weight on your heart, and then remember that something dreadful had happened the night before? Well, then you know just how I felt the morning after Fee got hurt. For a moment or two I tried to make myself believe it was all a bad dream; but there sat Phil on the edge of our bed, and the sight of his wretched white face brought back the whole thing only too plainly.

"Oh! how is Fee?" I exclaimed, sitting up in bed. "What does the doctor say about him?"

Phil's elbow was resting on his knee, his chin in his palm. "The doctor says," he answered, with, oh! such a look of misery in his tired eyes, "that Felix is not in danger of death, but it looks now as if he _might not be able to walk again_!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THERE SAT PHIL ON THE EDGE OF OUR BED."]

"Oh, Phil, _Phil_!" I cried out; then I sat and stared at him, and wondered if I were really awake, or if this were some dreadful dream.

"His back was weak from the start," went on Phil, drearily, "and probably would have been to the end of his life; but at least he would have been able to get around--to go to college--to enter a profession.

Now all that is over and done with. Isn't it _awful_!"

"Oh, but that can't be true," I broke in eagerly. "Why, Phil, Fee was in a dreadful way that last attack, I told the doctor about it,"--Phil nodded; "he couldn't stand on his feet at all,--and yet he got better.

Oh, he may now; he may, Phil, only with a longer time! See?"

"I thought of that when Gordon told me what you had told him, and I begged for some hope of that sort,--begged as I wouldn't now for my own life, Jack." Phil's voice got so unsteady that he had to stop for a minute. "After a good deal of talking and pleading," he went on presently, "I got him to admit that there _is_ a bare chance, on account of his being so young, that Fee _may_ get around again, in a sort of a way; but it's too slim to be counted on, and it could only be after a long time,--two or three years or longer. Dr. Archard'll be in town to-morrow, and they will consult; but Gordon says he's had cases of this kind before, and knows the symptoms well. I think he would have given us hope if he could. You see Fee isn't strong; oh, if it had _only_ been _I_!--great, uncouth, ugly brute that I am!" Phil struck his hand so fiercely on the bed that the springs just bounced me up and down.

"Fee's feet and legs are utterly useless," he began again; "his spine is so weak he can't sit up. Even his fingers are affected,--he can't close them on anything; he's lost his grip. And he may lie in this condition for years; he may _never_ recover from it. Oh, think of that, Jack!" Phil broke out excitedly; "_think_ of it! Our Fee, with his splendid, clever mind, with all his bright hopes and ambitions, with the certainty of going to college so near at hand,--to have to lie there, day in and day out, a helpless, useless creature! And brought to it by _my_ doing,--his own brother! _Oh_!" He drew his knee up, and folding his arms round it, laid his face down with a moan.

I slipped over to his side and threw my arm across his shoulder.

"Phil, dear," I said, to comfort him, "try and not think of that part; I'm sure Fee wouldn't want you to. You know he had that other attack--and--perhaps this would have come any way--"

But Phil interrupted, looking at me with those miserable, hollow eyes.

"Not like this," he said. "Dr. Gordon told me himself that the blow Fee got was what did the mischief this time; with medical care he might have got over those other attacks. Gordon didn't dream that I was the infuriated drunken brute who flung him against that chair. Drunken! I think I must have been possessed by a _devil_! That _I_ should have raised my hand against Fee,--the brother I love so dearly, my chum, my comrade, mother's boy, of whom she was so tender! Oh, _G.o.d_! shall I have to carry this awful remorse all the rest of my life!" His voice broke in a kind of a wail, and he threw his clinched hands up over his head.

"Oh, Phil, _dear_ Phil! Oh, _please_ don't," I begged. "Oh, Fee _wouldn't_ want you to talk like this."

"I know he wouldn't. G.o.d bless him!" Phil answered in a quieter tone, dropping his arms by his sides. "Oh, Jack, it cuts me up awfully to see him lying there so cheerful and serene when he knows that what's happened has just spoiled his whole life--"

"Oh, _does_ he know?" I exclaimed.

"He insisted on knowing, and bore it like a soldier. When I broke down he smiled at me, actually _smiled_, Jack, with, 'Why, old fellow, it isn't so bad--as all that'--_o-oh_!" Phil choked up, and, throwing himself on the bed, he buried his face deep in the pillows, that Fee in the next room might not hear his sobs.

That was a miserable day. Dr. Archard came quite early, and after the consultation we heard that, in the main, he agreed with Dr. Gordon.

"Still," he said to Nora and me, as he was going, "Felix _may_ surprise us all by recovering much faster and more fully than we expect. The thing is to get him out of town _just_ as soon as we can, and in the mean time to follow directions and keep him quiet and cheerful. Phil seems to have taken charge of the boy, and I do believe he's going to develop into a nurse. I'll send you round a _ma.s.seur_, and I'll write to your father, so he'll not be alarmed. Keep up your spirits, and your roses, my dear," patting Nora's cheek. Then he got into his carriage and drove away.