"Now I can bear it," she whispered, closing her eyes again, while a sweet smile played about her lips.
Her head dropped heavily on her son's shoulder.
"Oh," shrieked Ada, "she's dying! mother's dying!"
"Hush!" cried Rupert sternly, thinking of the mischief her cry might work should it reach the ears of the sick ones, "she has only fainted. A tumbler of water; quick, quick, Ada!"
As the terrified child hastened to do his bidding, Mildred came flying from the inner room, her face pale, her whole frame trembling with affright.
"Mother!" the word came in tones of agony from her pale, quivering lips.
"It's only a faint," said Rupert hoarsely. "Help me to lay her down and loosen her clothes. And haven't you hartshorn or something! whatever there is.
"Yes, Ada, quick, quick! the bottle of smelling salts! it's on the stand by father's bedside. O, mother, mother! you too! what's to become of us? O, Rupert, she's just killed with nursing! and I couldn't help it."
"Of course you couldn't; you are nearly killed yourself," he said, his tears falling almost as fast as hers, while between them they half carried, half dragged the insensible form into the adjoining room and laid it tenderly down upon a lounge.