"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strange manner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply.
"My child," said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you your mother died when you was a very little girl?"
"I don't know," said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with a pale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish you would go and bring her to me, father."
"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father, trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?"
"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her," continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently not understanding her father's words.
On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, which alarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of her senses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel's strange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial to the invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with her charge.
As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passed through Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singular words, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length the gray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relieve the watcher from her post.
As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the door suddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He paused and inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, on receiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room.
CHAPTER XXVI.
"The old days we remember;