"Relieve her mind as speedily as possible with the good news of the certainty of the baby's recovery, and, if you choose, the other glad tidings you brought us yesterday," Arthur answered. "The mental strain of the past two days has evidently been too much for her: she must have suffered greatly from grief, remorse, and terror. Relief from those will be the best medicine she could have, and probably work a speedy cure. Good-evening."
He hurried away, and the captain went at once to Lulu.
She was on the bed where he had left her, but, at the opening of the door, started up, and turned to him with a look of wild affright.
"Papa!" she cried breathlessly, "is—is the baby?—Oh, no! for how glad your face is!"
"Yes, baby is very much better; in fact, quite out of danger, the doctor thinks. And you? have you not slept?" he asked, bending over her in tender solicitude; for she had fallen back on her pillow, and was sobbing as if her heart would break, weeping for joy as she had before wept with sorrow, remorse, and penitence.
He lifted her from the bed, and sat down with her in his arms.
"Don't cry so, daughter, dear," he said soothingly, softly caressing her hair and cheek: "it will make your head ache still more."
"I can't help it, papa: I'm so glad, so very, very glad!" she sobbed; "so glad the dear baby will get well, and that I—I'm not a murderess. Papa, won't you thank God for me?"
"Yes," he said with emotion,—"for you and myself and all of us."
When they had risen from their knees, "Now I hope you can sleep a while, and afterward eat some supper," he said, lifting her, and gently laying her on the bed again.