"My darling, my dear, brave darling!" he murmured, as he laid her down upon a couch and bent over her in tenderest solicitude, while Mrs. Dinsmore hastened to apply restoratives.
It was not a long faint; she presently opened her eyes and lifted them with a bewildered look up into her father's face.
"What is it, papa?" she murmured; "have I been ill?"
"Only a short faint," he answered. "But you must be quite worn out."
"Oh, I remember!" she cried. "Harold, my dear son—"
"Is doing well, love. And now I want you to go to your bed and try to get some rest. See, day is breaking, and you have had no sleep, no rest."
"Nor have you, papa; do go and lie down; but I must watch over my poor boy," she said, trying to rise from the couch.
"Lie still," he said, gently detaining her; "lie here, if you are not willing to go to your bed. I am better able to sit up than you are, and will see to Harold."
"His brothers are with him, mamma," said Zoe, standing by; "and Edward says they will stay beside him as long as they are needed."
"Then you and I will both retire and try to take some rest, shall we not?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, bending over Elsie and softly smoothing her hair.