"Poor Lottie!" muttered Mrs. Lee. "How it troubles her to see any one suffer! And you, my kind guest—"
The gentle lady held out her hand to Mrs. Dennison, smiling wanly, but too feeble for any other expression of gratitude.
"Mamma," said Jessie, quickly, "do not try to speak, but rest. This has been a terrible attack."
"You here, my child, and I not know it!" whispered the invalid; "forgive me."
Mrs. Dennison pressed forward; but Jessie stepped between her and the invalid, not rudely, but with quiet decision which became the daughter of that proud man.
"Aunt Matty," she said, glancing past the widow, "had you not better leave her to papa and me? So many faces excite her."
Jessie was very pale, and I saw that her lips were quivering with agitation. Something had wounded her almost beyond bearing.
"Yes," I answered, promptly, "we will withdraw;" and, looking at Mrs. Dennison steadily, I waited for her to move first.
"This may be of service," she said, sweetly, placing the ruby-tinted bottle in Jessie's hand. "I found it very useful in reviving her."
Jessie took the bottle, but set it down at once. Indeed, her hand shook so violently that it must otherwise have fallen.