At times the big tears might be seen coursing down her cheek, as she gazed
mournfully upon the baby face so changed from what it was; but voice and
manner were quiet and composed.
Her husband was almost constantly at her side, sharing the care, the grief
and anxiety, and the nursing, so far as she would let him. Rose, too, and
Mr. Dinsmore, were there every hour of the day, and often in the night,
scarcely less anxious and grief-stricken than the parents, and Mr.
Dinsmore especially, trembling for the life and health of the mother as
well as the child.
At length came a day when all knew and felt that wee Elsie was at the very
brink of the grave, and the little thread of life might snap asunder at
any moment.
She lay on her pillow on her mother's lap, the limbs shrunken to half
their former size, the face, but lately so beautiful with the bloom of
health, grown wan and thin, with parched lips and half-closed, dreamy
eyes.
Mr. Travilla sat close beside them, with cup and spoon in hand, now and
then moistening the dry lips. Chloe, who had stationed herself a little
behind her mistress to be within call, was dropping great tears on the
soldier's stocking in her hand.
Mr. Dinsmore came softly in and stood by the little group, his features
working with emotion.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268