Minnie sat down by the sick man and laid her cheek against his with all her accustomed fondness.
"Papa," she murmured, "I love you—I am so sorry you are ill and cannot talk to me; but"—now lifting her head and looking earnestly into his eyes—"you know that I love you—that I shall always love you."
The look of yearning and agony which he bent upon her was more than she could bear, and, dropping her head again upon his pillow, she added:
"Now cannot you go to sleep for a little while; I will sit here beside you and hold your hand; then, perhaps, when you are rested you can talk to me a little."
She clasped his hand in both of her own soft, warm palms, raised it to her lips, kissed it, and held it there, and for nearly half an hour there was no sound in the room.
Finally the nurse came softly in, to look after her patient, and Mrs. Temple turned, with her finger upon her lips.
"They are both asleep," she whispered.
It was true, both the man and child were wrapped in slumber; one in that which knows no waking, the other in the innocent, restful sleep of childhood.