"Leave me! papa going to leave me!" she cried. "Oh, no, no! I cannot bear it! He must, he will be better soon! O Mr. Travilla, say that he will!"
"No, my darling!" replied a quivering voice from the bed, "I shall not live to see the morning light, and if you love Mr. Travilla tell him so and let me see you married before I die."
"Can you, do you love me, dear little Zoe?" Edward asked in tenderest tones, passing his arm about her waist.
"Yes," she said half under her breath, with a quick glance up into his face, then hid her own on his breast, sobbing, "Oh, take care of me! for I'll be all alone in the wide world when dear papa is gone."
"I will," he said, pressing her closer, softly pushing back the fair hair from the white temple and touching his lips to it again and again. "God helping me, I will be to you a tender, true, and loving husband."
"Come here, Zoe, darling," her father said, "our time grows short;" and Edward led her to the bedside.
"O papa, papa!" she sobbed, falling on her knees and laying her wet cheek to his.
Edward, with heart and eyes full to overflowing, moved softly away to the farther side of the room, that in this last sad interview the constraint of even his presence might not be felt.
Low sobs and murmured words of tenderness and fatherly counsel reached his ear, and his heart went up in silent prayer for both the dying one and her just about to be so sorely bereaved.
Presently footsteps approached the door opening into the passage, a gentle tap followed, and he admitted the minister who had been sent for, beckoning Ben to come in also.