Vi uttered a low cry of anguish; and
Rosie and the boys broke into a wail of sorrow.
Till that moment they had not given up hope that the dear one might even
yet be restored.
In the sick-room the golden head lay on a snow white pillow, the blue eyes
were closed, and the breath came pantingly from the pale, parted lips.
"Cousin Arthur" had his finger on the slender wrist, counting its
pulsations, while father and grandfather stood looking on in anxious
solicitude, and the mother bent over her fading flower, asking in tender
whispered accents, "are you in pain, my darling?"
"No, mamma, only so tired; so tired!"
Only the mother's quick ear, placed close to the pale lips, could catch
the low-breathed words.
The doctor administered a cordial, then a little nourishment was given,
and the child fell asleep.
The mother sat watching her, lost to all else in the world. Arthur came to
her side with a whispered word about her own need of rest and refreshment
after her fatiguing journey.
"How long?" she asked in the same low tone, glancing first at the white
face on the pillow, then at him.
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