In breathless silence the mother stood and watched.  ’Don’t give him up, doctor!’ she cried, as at last the doctor straightened himself and paused, looking at the mother sorrowfully.  He shook his head, but set to work again, trying artificial respiration, and leaving no effort untried to bring back the life that had apparently departed.

And then there came the moment when his efforts met with success, for placing his hand against the little heart he felt a feeble throb.  He redoubled his efforts; the breath began to appear, a faint colour tinged the blue lips, and at last the heavy eyelids raised, and a faint voice said, ‘Mother!’

Mrs. John sank on her knees.  ‘Thank God!’ was all she said, and then she fainted.

Much later in the evening Teddy was placed in his own little bed at home; but though alive, his condition was most critical, and he lay in a heavy stupor, from which it seemed impossible to rouse him.  The doctor said he must have struck his head against a stone when first he dived into the river, and this had produced concussion of the brain.  Nancy had been taken home before he came, but the news was brought to her that he was still alive, though in great danger, and that was a great comfort to her poor little sorrowful soul.

For many days he lay between life and death.  The inquiries after him from every one of his schoolfellows, the Hall, and the different farms and places round, told his mother how much her little son had been beloved.  And when on the following Sunday Mr. Upton gave out, in a faltering voice, ’The prayers of this congregation are desired for Edward Platt, who is very dangerously ill,’ there was not a dry eye in the church, and one or two audible sobs came from the boys’ seats in the gallery.

Mrs. John never left her boy’s bedside—­night and day she was by him, and many wondered at her calm peacefulness.  After the first great shock, she had been able to hand over her child into her Father’s loving hands, and rest content with the result; and so she was able, in perhaps the most anxious time of her life, to look up and say, ’Father, not my will, but Thine be done.’

The days slowly passed, and still no change for the better.  The doctor came and went with his grave, impenetrable face, and Teddy was still unconscious.  Then doubts began to rise in his mother’s heart as to whether his reason would ever come back, and she stopped the doctor as he was leaving one morning to ask him the question,—­

’If he lives, doctor, will he be an idiot?—­my brave, bonny boy!  Oh, I would rather have death for him than that!’ And the doctor could only give her the meagre consolation, ’He may recover yet.  I have seen worse cases than this pull through, and be as bright as ever they were.’

And then, one afternoon, when the setting sun was flooding the room with a golden glory, the little head turned on the pillow.  ‘Mother!’

The sound of that word, not uttered since she had seen him in the doctor’s house that first terrible day, was like the sweetest music in her ear.  Stooping over him she met the clear conscious gaze of the blue eyes.