“Oh, how can I tell you? Heaven only knows! Her last paroxysm of fever and delirium was less violent; but then such powerful depletives have been used; and it has left her weak almost unto death. But she is conscious now, and has asked for you.”
“Can you show me at once into her room?”
“Oh yes, come,” said Elfie, softly leading the way upstairs and into Erminie’s chamber.
Catherine still sat beside the bed fanning the sinking girl, who had again suddenly dropped into sleep or stupor;—it was impossible to say which.
“You will not disturb her?” whispered Elfie, anxiously.
“Certainly not. I will sit here quietly until she awakens or returns to consciousness,” replied the pastor, in a low tone.
At a sign from Elfie the girl Catherine arose and left the room. And the pastor seated himself in the vacant chair, and took the palm leaf and fanned Erminie, while he watched for her awakening.
And the room was very cool, shady, and quiet, and so the sleeper lay calmly reposing for nearly an hour, and then she softly opened her eyes and looked with a gentle, bewildered gaze upon the figure of the preacher seated by her bed.
“Do you know me, my child?” whispered the pastor.
She feebly moved her hand and smiled.