Now she kneeled by his side and raised his head.  He was mangled, bleeding, pallid, and insensible.

“Oh, for the love of God, leave those horses and come here, men!  Come instantly!” cried Claudia, who with trembling hands was seeking on the boy’s face and bosom for some signs of life.

Two of the men remained with the horses, but three rushed to the side of the young lady.

“Oh, Heaven! he is crushed to death, I fear!  He was trampled down by the horses, and the whole carriage seemed to have passed over him!  Oh, tell me! tell me! is he killed? is he quite, quite dead?” cried Claudia breathlessly, wringing her hands in anguish, as she arose from her kneeling posture to make room for the man.

The three got down beside him and began to examine his condition.

“Is he dead?  Oh! is he dead?” cried Claudia.

“It’s impossible to tell, miss,” answered one of the men, who had his hand on Ishmael’s wrist; “but he haint got no pulse.”

“And his leg is broken, to begin with,” said another, who was busy feeling the poor fellow’s limbs.

“And I think his ribs be broken, too,” added the third man, who had his hand in the boy’s bosom.

With a piercing scream Claudia threw herself down on the ground, bent over the fallen body, raised the poor, ghastly head in her arms, supported it on her bosom, snatched a vial of aromatic vinegar from her pocket, and began hastily to bathe the blanched face; her tears falling fast as she cried: 

“He must not die!  Oh, he shall not die!  Oh, God have mercy on me, and spare his life!  Oh, Saviour of the world, save him!  Sweet angels in heaven, come to his aid!  Oh, Ishmael, my brother! my treasure! my own, dear boy, do not die!  Better I had died than you!  Come back! come back to me, my own! my beautiful boy, come back to me!  You are mine!”

Her tears fell like rain; and utterly careless of the eyes gazing in wonder upon her, she covered his cold, white face with kisses.

Those warm tears, those thrilling kisses, falling on his lifeless, face, might have called back the boy’s spirit, had it been waiting at the gates of heaven!

To Claudia’s unutterable joy his sensitive features quivered, his pale cheeks flushed, his large, blue eyes opened, and with a smile of ineffable satisfaction he recognized the face that was bending over him.  Then the pallid lips trembled and unclosed with the faintly uttered inquiry: 

“You are safe, Miss Merlin?”

“Quite safe, my own dear boy! but oh! at what a cost to you!” she answered impulsively and fervently.

He closed his eyes, and while that look of ineffable bliss deepened on his face, he murmured some faint words that she stooped to catch: 

“I am so happy—­so happy—­I could wish to die now!” he breathed.

“But you shall not die, dear Ishmael!  God heard my cry and sent you back to me!  You shall live!”