"If she dies," said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "what will be left on earth to me?"
The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O, speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; the doctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to be taken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left on earth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded by admiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son to perpetuate your name"——
"Say no more," interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure your words."
Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant to soothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on the soft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of the bed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict."
Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbing temples. Louise trembled.
"Your brow is feverish," said she at length, seeking an excuse to withdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion."
"No," said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion," still detaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained a quantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith. Opening her large, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of the watchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression.
"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her.
"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother," she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in full possession of her waking faculties.
Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That is Mrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering a little, I fear."