However, after the physician had seen Guy, she brought Mr. Morris to him, and came forward, or remained in her room, according as she was wanted. She thought her husband's face was at each moment acquiring more unearthly beauty, and feeling with him, she was raised above thought or sensation of personal sorrow.
When the first part of the service was over, and she exchanged a few words, out of Guy's hearing, with Mr. Morris, he said to her, as from the very fullness of his heart, 'One longs to humble oneself to him. How it puts one to shame to hear such repentance with such a confession!'
The time came when Philip was wanted. Amabel had called in Anne and the clergyman's brother, and went to fetch her cousin. He was where she had left him in the sitting-room, his face hidden in his arms, crossed on the table, the whole man crushed, bowed down, overwhelmed with remorse.
'We are ready. Come, Philip.'
'I cannot; I am not worthy,' he answered, not looking up.
'Nay, you are surely in no uncharitableness with him now,' said she, gently.
A shudder expressed his no.
'And if you are sorry--that is repentance--more fit now than ever--Won't you come? Would you grieve him now?'
'You take it on yourself, then,' said Philip, almost sharply, raising his haggard face.
She did not shrink, and answered, 'A broken and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.'
It was a drop of balm, a softening drop. He rose, and trembling from head to foot, from the excess of his agitation, followed her into Guy's room.
The rite was over, and stillness succeeded the low tones, while all knelt in their places. Amabel arose first, for Guy, though serene, looked greatly exhausted, and as she sprinkled him with vinegar, the others stood up. Guy looked for Philip, and held out his hand. Whether it was his gentle force, or of Philip's own accord Amabel could not tell; but as he lay with that look of perfect peace and love, Philip bent down over him and kissed his forehead.
'Thank you!' he faintly whispered. 'Good night. God bless you and my sister.'
Philip went, and he added to Amy, 'Poor fellow! It will be worse for him than for you. You must take care of him.'
She hardly heard the last words, for his head sunk on one side in a deathlike faintness, the room was cleared of all but herself, and Anne fetched the physician at once.
At length it passed off, and Guy slept. The doctor felt his pulse, and she asked his opinion of it. Very low and unequal, she was told: his strength was failing, and there seemed to be no power of rallying it, but they must do their best to support him with cordials, according to the state of his pulse. The physician could not remain all night himself, but would come as soon as he could on the following day.