Dawn of the Morning

by Grace Livingston Hill

"Rags, stay here and guard her!" he commanded. "Sit right there!" He pointed to a spot in the garden walk. "Now be still."

Rags whined softly. He was trembling with excitement.

"Be still!"

The little dog thumped his tail in acquiescence, but looked wistfully after his master as he turned away, and then at the sleeping goddess.

Dan hastened back to the house.

The horses were cropping their breakfast from the lawn at the edge of the gravel driveway. Charles was coming down the steps, his face white and drawn.

"Dan, I cannot find her, and there is cholera here. Mrs. Van Rensselaer is lying desperately ill upstairs! There is another woman caring for her and she says Dawn has gone."

He buried his face in his hands and stood still. Dan thought he was going to fall.

"Don't!" said Dan. "I've found her. Come!" He eagerly drew Charles along the garden walk.

"Oh, do you mean it? Are you sure, Dan?"