Inza Burrage placed her arm lovingly about Elsie Bellwood and drew Elsie’s head down upon her shoulder. They were in their room in the home of John Loder, in Baltimore. It was evening.
“I’m so sorry!” repeated Inza sympathetically, as she softly patted Elsie’s pale cheek. “What seems to be the matter?”
“I’m tired, tired. I seem to be tired all the time now, Inza. I can’t get rested.”
“You’ll be better to-morrow, dear,” declared the dark-eyed girl cheerfully; “I’m sure you’ll be better to-morrow.”
“I don’t know,” sighed Elsie. “I fear not. Each day I’ve thought I would be better the next, but I improve so slowly it is very discouraging. It doesn’t seem that I’ll ever be well and strong again, as I used to be.”
“Oh, but you will—of course you will! You’re much better than you were in Virginia.”
“I’d be dead now if I hadn’t improved at all,” returned Elsie, with a faint smile. “I used to feel so well. Inza, you’re wasting your time staying by me this way. I appreciate it, oh, so much! But, I know how you must feel. You are well and strong and full of life. You make me feel guilty over keeping you in like this. I feel that I am——”
“There, there!” exclaimed Inza laughingly, placing a soft hand over Elsie’s lips. “I won’t listen to such nonsense! Are you not my dearest friend! It’s a great satisfaction to me if I can do anything for you, as I know how much you have done for me in the past and how much you would do now if you had the opportunity.”
“But you would be with Frank a great deal more if you did not feel it your duty to stay here with me. I am robbing you of that pleasure. It is not right. You had a letter from him in the last delivery to-day.”
“Yes.”