Poor children! so utterly overwhelmed were they by their mother's helpless condition, superadded to all the other causes for anxiety, perplexity and distress, so taken up with efforts for her restoration to consciousness, that they scarcely heard the cries of the sick little ones, who could not understand why they were thus left alone, or the calls of their father who had roused from sleep and missed his gentle nurse; nor did they notice who it was that came in through the open kitchen door and silently assisted them, raising the window blind and sprinkling water on the still white face.
At last Mrs. Keith's eyes unclosed and she started up asking faintly "What is it? have I been ill?" then fell back again completely exhausted.
"You were faint, mother dear," said Mildred, vainly striving to steady her voice, "but lie still for a while and I hope you will get over it. You have been doing too much and must rest now."
"Rest, child! how can I? There is your father calling me. And the children are crying."
She started up again but with the same result as before.
"My poor sick husband! my little ailing children! what is to become of you?" she sighed, tears stealing from beneath the closed eyelids and trickling down the pale cheeks.
"Mother, I will do my best," sobbed Mildred; "only lie and rest yourself."
"And I am here to assist, and able to do it," said a somewhat harsh, discordant voice, though there was in it a tone of kindness too.
Then they looked up and saw standing near, the stiff, angular figure of Damaris Drybread.