"I beg you will now leave the room, and lie down. And do not feel obliged to see me when I visit the child. That annoyance, at least, you should spare yourself."
"No consideration shall make me neglect little Emma," I replied, defiantly.
By this time Mrs. Embury had rocked her to sleep, and she lay, pale and with an air of complete exhaustion, in her arms.
"You must lie down now, Miss Mortimer," Dr. Elliott said, as he rose to go. "I will return in a few hours to see how you both do."
He stood looking at, Emma, but did not go. Then Mrs. Embury asked the question I had not dared to ask.
"Is the poor child in danger?"
"I cannot say; I trust not. Miss Mortimer's presence of mind in extinguishing the flames at once, has, I hope, saved its life."
"It was not my presence of mind, it was Lucy's!" I cried, eagerly. Oh, how I envied her for being the heroine, and for the surprised, delighted smile with which he went and took her hand, saying, "I congratulate you, Lucy! How your mother will rejoice at this!"
I tried to think of nothing but poor little Emma, and of the reward Aunty had had for her kindness to Lucy. But I thought of myself, and how likely it was that under the same circumstances I should have been beside myself, and done nothing. This, and many other emotions, made me burst out crying.
"Yes, cry, cry, with all your heart," said Mrs. Embury, laying Emma gently down, and coming to get me into her arms. "It will do you good, poor child!"