Mary knelt down softly by her friend, and bowing her head wept in sweet and grateful joy.
"Where am I? Where have I been?" asked the invalid, still more faintly.
"You are with us, this is our home!" answered Mary, almost catching her breath, for she dared not tell the poor lady where she really was.
Mrs. Chester was now quite exhausted, her eyes closed, and she scarcely breathed. Mary started up and poured out a spoonful of what she supposed to be wine.
"Every ten minutes—every ten minutes we must give her this, with the beef tea when she can take it."
"Let me—oh, let me give it to her this one time," pleaded Isabel.
Mary resigned the pewter spoon with a faint smile, and Isabel held the colored water to her mother's pale lips. Then Mrs. Chester slept again while the two girls sat watching her with their hopeful eyes. Once every ten minutes these little creatures would steal up to the pillow and pour the mockery of strength between those white and parted lips, hoping each time that she would open her eyes and speak to them again—but no, she slept on and each moment her breath grew fainter. While the two girls sat with their arms interlinked watching that beloved face, the nurses stole out from the ward, and crept, each with an earthen pitcher in her hand, down the Hospital stairs, and out into the open grounds.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MIDNIGHT REVEL—MARY AND HER MOTHER.
Time stole into eternity,
And they stood wondering by,
Breathless, and oh, how silently
To watch the lov'd one die.