"Name er God, Marse Richard, how is he? I didn't dast to speak when I saw 'em takin' Miss Margaret off."
"Go to bed," said Richard, kindly. "The danger is past, the doctor says."
"We may as well go to bed and leave him to the nurse now," said the doctor, just behind him.
"I shall stay for awhile. Good-night, doctor."
When Margaret woke from that sleep of exhaustion the first faint streaks of daylight were in the sky. She had thrown herself on the bed, dressed as she was, and slept for hours. She started up and hurried to Philip's room. A wax taper was burning low. The nurse was not in sight and at first she thought the child was alone. She stepped quickly to the bed. Then as her eyes became accustomed to the semi-gloom she saw a figure in the big arm-chair.
"How is he? I—I must have slept a long time."
"He has hardly stirred."
"Poor little lamb! He was worn out too. Where is the nurse?"
"I sent her to bed. There was no use in both of us sitting up, and she was tired out."
"And you have sat here alone all night? and not even been able to read to keep yourself awake."