Dawn's face grew grave.
"Is it morning?" said she. "How could I have slept so long when there was so much to be done! Mrs. Van Rensselaer——"
"I know, dear," Charles stopped her, "but she is being cared for. The woman told me she seemed a little better. I got her letter last evening, and we came at once, Dan and I. We had been down to New York, hunting you, and just missed you. We had gone home utterly discouraged, when this note came, just these words, 'Dawn is here.' We started at once. How long had she been ill?"
"The letter?" said Dawn. "I don't understand. I just came myself yesterday morning. She was very ill when I got here. She couldn't have mailed any letter, unless—— Oh, it must be that she dragged herself out and sent it while I was hunting hot water and a doctor for her? The doctor found her lying at the gate unconscious, and brought her in."
"She had done you a great injury," said Charles, with a grave face.
"But she almost gave her life to make it right again," said Dawn solemnly. "I have heard exertion is usually fatal in cholera. And she asked me twice to forgive her. Think of that! Wasn't it wonderful? But you don't know her and can't understand how unlike her that seems."
Dawn was crying softly now, and Charles soothed her anxiously.
"You must put the thought of it away, dear, or you will be ill, too. Are you sure you feel quite well? It was a terrible experience for you to have to go through alone. Come, we must get you something to eat at once. What did you have last? I hope you ate nothing that had been around the sick-room."
"I ate two boiled eggs," said Dawn, smiling through her tears. "It was all I could find, and I was too tired to make a fire."
"Dear child!" said Charles. "But it was the best thing you could have done, I guess. Dan, there's that broth we brought along. Betty put up enough for a regiment."