“Soon——now!” panted the sinking girl.
“Yes, now, dearest, you shall have him,” said Elfie, who beckoned to Catherine to take her place at the bedside; and then left the room to have the wish of her friend gratified.
Dr. Sales, the beloved and venerated pastor of the Rosenthal family had, since her father’s death, stood in a father’s position towards Erminie.
With the deepest distress he had heard of that good girl’s illness. He had called every day to see her or to ask after her.
He had not yet been permitted to make his presence known to her. But once or twice, while she lay in stupor, he had stood over her unconscious form, gazing anxiously down on her death-like face; or he had knelt beside her bed, praying silently for her recovery.
It was, therefore, without surprise that Elfie, when she went down stairs, found the pastor waiting in the hall.
“Oh, Dr. Sales, I am so glad to see you! I had just come down to send for you,” she eagerly exclaimed.
“How is our dear child this morning?” anxiously inquired the pastor.
Elfie burst into tears.
“Worse?” breathlessly demanded the old man.