“When—I—get—well,” Elsie looked wonderingly at him. She saw his passionate earnestness, his need of hope. Hope! It was fast fainting in her heart. “Yes, Harvey,—when I get well.”
He bent over her and with deep tenderness kissed her.
Violent coughing seized her. It was the worst, the most prolonged Elsie had yet had. One spasm followed another, bringing her mother with remedies.
Harvey moved frantically about; he was the first to suggest the doctor and ran out to bring one. He did not realize, he could not know what had really happened.
When he returned Elsie had fallen asleep and the physician advised them not to waken her, promising to call early in the morning. The faithful Harvey went with him. He had her answer, “when I get well,” she said.
Elsie remained until nearly day-break in a very deep sleep. The fever left her during this long repose. Her sister, who was watching beside her, thought she was better because her forehead grew damp and cool.
With the first early light of morning Elsie opened her eyes.
Patience pushed back the pretty tendrils of her dark hair. “It’s sister watching with you, dear,” she said.
“Where’s mother?” murmured Elsie in a voice so weak that it frightened Patience.
“Mother! mother! Please come!” she called.