"Thank God, he's safe," she murmured. "Oh, we have waited so long! There,
I'm better now," she said, hastily, and with a swift color coming into
her pale cheeks, as they reached the door.
"You must not expose yourself so again, sister Amy."
"I thought--I thought when you began to lift Burt out--" But she could
not finish the sentence.
"He has only sprained his ankle. Go tell mother."
Perhaps there is no joy like that which fills loving hearts when the lost
is found. It is so pure and exalted that it is one of the ecstasies of
heaven. It would be hard to describe how the old house waked up with its
sudden accession of life--life that was so warm and vivid against the
background of the shadow of death. There were murmured thanksgivings as
feet hurried to and fro, and an opening fire of questions, which Maggie
checked by saying:
"Possess your souls in patience. Burt's safe--that's enough to know until
he is cared for, and my half-famished husband and the rest get their
supper. Pretty soon we can all sit down, for I want a chance to hear
too."
"And no one has a better right, Maggie," said her husband, chafing his
hands over the fire. "After what we've seen to-night, this place is the
very abode of comfort, and you its presiding genius;" and Leonard beamed
and thawed until the air grew tropical around him.
At Mrs. Clifford's request (for it was felt that it was not best to cross
the invalid), Burt, in the rocking-chair wherein he had been placed, was
carried to her room, and received a greeting from his parents that
brought tears to the young fellow's eyes.
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