The Dark Hour

She experienced no difficulty in finding the sick-room, where Louis' cry of delight, John's expression of joy, and the sick man's whispered words, "God bless you, Maude," more
than recompensed her for the risk she had incurred. Gradually her
fear subsided, particularly when she learned that it was in fact the
varioloid. Had it been possible to remove her brother from danger
she would have done so, but it was too late now, and she suffered
him to share her vigils, watching carefully for the first symptoms
of the disease in him.

In this manner nearly two weeks passed away, and the panic-stricken
villagers were beginning to breathe more freely, when it was told
them one day that Maude and Louis were both smitten with the
disease. Then indeed the more humane said to themselves, "Shall they
be left to suffer alone?" and still no one was found who dared to
breathe the air of the sick-room.

Dr. Kennedy was by this time so much better that Louis was taken to his apartment, where he
ministered to him himself, while the heroic Maude was left to the
care of John. Everything he could do for her he did, but his heart
sunk within him when he saw how fast her fever came on, and heard
her, in her sleep, mourn for her mother, to hold her aching head.

"She mustn't die," he said, and over his dark skin the tears rolled
like rain, as raising his eyes to the ceiling he cried imploringly,
"Will the good Father send someone to help?"