No prayer that he had ever prayed was of use here.
The old, beautiful formulas, which had soothed and helped
the passing of many a soul, were naught save idle, empty words
to Naomi Clark. In his anguish of mind Stephen Leonard gasped
out the briefest and sincerest prayer his lips had ever uttered.
"O, God, our Father! Help this woman. Speak to her in a tongue
which she can understand."
A beautiful, white face appeared for a moment in the light
that streamed out of the doorway into the darkness of the night.
No one noticed it, and it quickly drew back into the shadow.
Suddenly, Naomi fell back on her pillow, her lips blue,
her face horribly pinched, her eyes rolled up in her head.
Maggie started up, pushed Mr. Leonard aside, and proceeded
to administer some remedy with surprising skill and deftness.
Mr. Leonard, believing Naomi to be dying, went to the door,
feeling sick and bruised in soul.
Presently a figure stole out into the light.
"Felix, is that you?" said Mr. Leonard in a startled tone.
"Yes, sir." Felix came up to the stone step.
"Janet got frightened what you might fall on that rough road
after dark, so she made me come after you with a lantern.
I've been waiting behind the point, but at last I thought I'd
better come and see if you would be staying much longer.
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