And picking up on his arm now one of the children, now another, and losing them and finding them again, he began to run to save their lives from the flood.  He ran, he raced, he jumped, he fell down.  He protested against having to sink after all, though he had already been rescued.  He swore, he ran, he fell, and scrambled to his feet, and ran and ran, with a hideous fear in his breast, a senseless fear such as he had never before experienced.  When the wave overtook him, fear changed into soothing peace and calm.

XXIX

The next morning, with the same train by which Frederick had come, Miss Burns arrived in Meriden.  She went directly to Peter Schmidt’s office to inquire for him, having expected to find him awaiting her at the station.  Peter told her of the operation Frederick had performed the day before.

“It was a mighty difficult job, I tell you,” said Peter Schmidt, “and he covered himself with glory.  He intended immediately afterwards to send you a telegram telling you not to come.  But just as he was about to go, he himself received a cablegram.”

“Well, now that I am here,” said Miss Burns in her sprightly way, “I shall not allow myself to be turned down in such an offhand manner.  I don’t intend to visit Rome without seeing the Pope.”

Three quarters of an hour later the two-seated sleigh drawn by the spirited chestnut, with whose peculiarities they now knew better how to deal, reached Uncle Tom’s Cabin on Lake Hanover.  Peter, who was anxious to bring Frederick news of the farmer and tell him he had not developed fever, drove Miss Burns out.  They were amazed at the condition in which they found things, and, as they mounted the stairs, freely exchanged criticisms without lowering their voices.  The door to Frederick’s room was slightly ajar.  They walked in.  He was lying stretched on his bed, still wearing the fur coat in which he had left the office after the operation.  He was unconscious, mumbling in a delirium, evidently very ill.  Peter Schmidt picked up the cablegram lying on the floor.  He and Miss Burns felt that in the circumstances they were justified in learning its contents.  What they read was: 

  Dear Frederick, news from Jena.  In spite of the greatest care Angele
  passed away yesterday afternoon.  Take the inevitable with composure. 
  Keep yourself well for your loving old parents.

For a week Frederick hovered between life and death.  The powers of darkness, perhaps, had never grappled for him so greedily.  For a week his whole body was like something about which tongues of fire lick and roar, ready to consume it and send it up into the air, like a puff of smoke.

Peter Schmidt, of course, brought all his medical skill to his friend’s service.  Mrs. Schmidt, too, did whatever she could for him.  Miss Burns felt it was predestination, not chance, that had brought her to his side at so critical a moment, and instantly decided not to leave until he was entirely out of danger.  She engaged a woman attendant and a man to go on errands by day and night.