The veteran, using a second pair of
crutches which he kept in reserve, went to the adjoining apartment, buried
his face in his hands, and groaned audibly. He knew not how to perform one
imperative and pressing duty, that of relating to Mr. Houghton what had
happened.
Aware of what was on his mind, Mara came to him and said, "I will go and
tell his father."
"God bless you, Mara, for the offer. I would rather face death than that
old man, but it is my duty and I alone must do it. Hard as it is, it is
not so terrible as the thought that the poor boy died for me and mine, and
that I can never make the acknowledgment which his heroic self-sacrifice
deserves. It would have been heroic in any man, but in him whom I had
treated with such bitter scorn and enmity--How can I meet Ella's eyes
again! Oh, I fear, I fear all this will destroy her!"
"Courage, my friend," said Mara, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Ella
will live to comfort you."
"Mara, you will not fail me?"
"No, I will not fail you."
He pressed her hand to his lips, and then she returned to Ella.
Mrs. Hunter and old Hannah removed the poor girl's wet garments and
applied restoratives. The invalid, whose strength and spirit rose with the
emergency, directed their efforts, meantime listening to the fragmentary
explanations which were possible at such a time.
"Oh, just God!" she exclaimed, "we are punished, terribly punished for our
thoughts and actions toward that poor boy.
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