So clear had her perceptions been, and so much more awake did she appear, on this evening, that he expected the inquiry to come every moment, and lingered in her room; till she asked the hour, and begged him to go to bed.
As he bent over her, she looked up in his face, and said softly, “Dear papa.”
There was that in her tone which showed she perceived the truth, and he knelt by her side kissing her, but not daring to relax his restraint of feeling.
“Dear papa,” she said again, “I hope I shall soon be better, and be some comfort to you.”
“My best—my own—my comfort,” he murmured, all he could say without giving way.
“Baby—is she well?”
“Yes, thank Heaven, she has not suffered at all.”
“I heard her this morning, I must see her to-morrow. But don’t stay, dear, dear papa, it is late, and I am sure you are not at all well. Your arm—is it very much hurt?”
“It is nothing you need think about, my dear. I am much better than I could have imagined possible.”
“And you have been nursing me all the time! Papa, you must let me take care of you now. Do pray go to bed at once, and get up late. Nurse will take good care of me. Good-night, dear papa.”