“I will wait, of course I will wait. He is heavy, and I am almost tired out, as you say. It is very kind of you; I will wait!”
The widow saw how anxious Catharine was, and with gentle tact gave way to her wishes.
They hurried into the breakfast-room together, and after Catharine had arranged the cushions and white dainty couch for the child to rest on, she returned to the library.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE IMAGE IN THE GLASS.
Elsie had partially recovered. Her eyes were open, and she was resting on her elbow, looking with child-like wonder around the room; while the dear old people stood hand-in-hand, regarding her through a mist of grateful tears.
“How did I come here?” said Elsie, in her sweet, natural voice, that made those two fond hearts leap in unison; “I must have studied late, and fallen asleep after. Did he miss me?”
The old people looked at each other in alarm.
“Of whom does she speak?” inquired Catharine.
“Of him,” answered the old man, glancing toward the portrait. “What can we answer?”
“He did not reach home last night,” said Catharine, gently.