And Erminie so strongly sympathized with her in her anxiety that she despatched her domestic affairs in great haste, and was seated beside Elfie in the little carriage an hour earlier than usual.
They drove rapidly to the hospital, and while Miss Rosenthal was holding a consultation with the sister in charge of the clothing room, Elfie hurried to the second floor and entered the ward where her patient lay.
Merely bowing to the nurses in attendance, she passed swiftly up between the rows of beds, but paused suddenly beside that which sustained the wasted form of her lover, who seemed to be sleeping, or swooning; she could not tell which.
A great change had passed over the face and form of Albert Goldsborough since the day before. His face was more livid and sunken then ever; black shadows had gathered in the hollows of his eyes, and temples, and cheeks, and around his pallid lips, which, drawn tightly apart showed the dry, glistening teeth between them. His eyes were half open and half opaque like the eyes of the dying. His shrunken form beneath the closely clinging counterpane, revealed the rapid wasting of flesh and muscle that had gone on even in the last few hours.
As soon as Elfie’s eyes fell upon him she suppressed the scream that rose to her mouth, and turned in agonized inquiry to her friend on the next cot.
“Oh, what has happened since last night?” she faltered.
“I am very sorry to tell you, Miss, but for some reason or other the stump broke out bleeding in the night, and there was a very exhausting hemorrhage before it could be stopped again.”
“And—is there—great danger?” faintly inquired Elfie, sinking upon the chair that stood between the two beds.
“Well—no, Miss, we all hope not, if it doesn’t break out again,” answered the young soldier, hesitatingly.
“But—can it break out again? Is it likely do so?” anxiously inquired Elfie, now gazing in distress upon the ghastly face of her lover, and now turning appealingly to her new friend.