Prayer was
still her support--prayer, silent, but almost unceasing.
The surgeon arrived,--the injuries received by the sufferer were
examined, though it was long before Philip, unaccustomed to pain and
incapable of self-control, would permit necessary measures to be taken.
His resistance greatly added to his sufferings. He had sustained a
compound fracture of his leg, besides numerous bruises and contusions.
The broken bone had to be set, and the pale mother stood by, longing, in
the fervour of her unselfish love, that she could endure the agony in
the place of her son. The pampered child of luxury shrank sensitively
from pain, and the thought that he had brought all his misery upon
himself by his folly and disobedience rendered it yet more intolerable.
When the surgeon had at length done his work, Lady Grange retired with
him to another apartment, and, struggling to command her choking voice,
asked him the question on the reply to which all her earthly happiness
seemed to hang,--whether he had hope that the life of her boy might be
spared.
"I have every hope", said the surgeon, cheerfully, "if we can keep down
the fever." Then, for the first time since she had seen her son lie
bleeding before her, the mother found the relief of tears.
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