'Yes,' replied the cousin, drawing the sick girl's head upon her bosom. 'Oh, Hester—my poor darling, how ill you have been!'
'Ill—I ill? I thought it was papa,' she said, with dilated eyes. 'Is he well now?'
'Yes,' replied Maude, in a choking voice, 'well—very well; but drink this, dearest.'
'Where is papa—can I see him? Will you or the doctor take me to him?'
'He is not here,' began the perplexed Maude.
'Not here; where then?'
'You must wait, Hester, till you are well and strong—well and strong; you must not speak or think—but eat.'
Then a feeble smile that made Maude's tender heart ache stole over Hester's pale face.
'Where is papa?' the latter exclaimed suddenly, with a shrill ring of hysterics in her voice. 'Ah—I know—I remember now,' she added, with a smile, 'he is dead—dead!'
'Born again, rather say, my darling,' whispered poor Maude, choked with tears, as she nestled Hester's face in her neck.