“My own dear Richard,” she murmured, “don’t give way—be of good cheer.”
He wound his arms around her, and embraced her fondly.
Presently the nurse entered the room, and bade him seek rest.
He retired to a sleeping chamber adjacent to that occupied by his wife; the few broken sentences she had uttered troubled him much, but hope as yet had not deserted him.
The next day Mrs. Ashbrook appeared to be a little better—was more cheerful; but as it waned, and evening crept on, she seemed to be quite listless and heedless of all around.
Those about her thought she needed repose, and did not trouble her with unnecessary questions.
“Where is Maude—let me see her?” she said all of a sudden to her nurse.
Maude was her daughter, who had been so named after her aunt and godmother, Richard Ashbrook’s sister.
The child was brought in and placed in her mother’s arms.
She hugged the little thing, who gently sank to sleep on her mother’s bosom.