“He is gone, my dear. Come away,” said the gentle voice of Sister Agnes, who had come softly to the side of the bed.
Elfie laid her beloved burden back upon the pillow, gazed at the dead face in unutterable love and grief, pressed her lips upon the cold brow, and then turned and gave her hand to Sister Agnes, who led her from the room.
Well it was for Elfie that she was not of a temperament to suppress her emotions.
As soon as she had reached the little bed-room in the third story she threw herself into her friend’s arms and burst into a flood of tears.
The Sister of Mercy, young in years, but old in her experience of sorrow, let the mourner weep and sob, until she had exhausted the violence of her emotions.
Then she led her to one of the beds and made her lie down upon it, and soothed her with tender caresses and gentle words.
And then saying that she would go and send a messenger for Miss Rosenthal, she left Elfie to repose.
It was still very early in the morning, just about sunrise, when Erminie came in her carriage, in answer to the summons, and was shown immediately to the little room occupied by Elfie.
On seeing her friend, Elfie started up and fell upon Erminie’s bosom and gave way to another outburst of sorrow.
Erminie silently embraced and supported her until the paroxysm was over. Then she made Elfie lie down again on her bed until Sister Agnes had brought up a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast, which they persuaded her to take.