restored and—but will you not, ladies, come in and see your rooms?”
“Give us good rooms and send up coffee! But in the first place let us have a glass of water!”
“He is really here, he is better; you shall see him, shall be his nurse; every thing will become right!” I repeated over and over to my poor Elsa, who was pale, rigid, and almost lifeless.
She merely replied, “I could not survive if he died!”
“But he is not going to die; he will live,” I said assuredly, “only do you so contrive as not to die of starvation and anxiety, because then I promise nothing, and I will not have the trouble of burying you both!”
She could not help smiling, and I induced her to swallow a few drops of coffee “for his sake.”
I then went to his door; she accompanied me, trembling but resolute.
“He is asleep,” said his servant to me, in an under voice, “he is better, thank God!” The good fellow had tears in his eyes which beamed with joy.
We entered. Waldo was sleeping calmly, but was very pale and much changed. “A severe attack of inflammation of the liver, the doctor says,” whispered Rafael, “but all danger is now over; he has been bled seven times!”
Little Elsa had sunk on her knees by his pillow, and tears silently flowed down the pale cheeks as she bent over him. He woke and saw her. Had he been dreaming about her and believed this to be the continuation of his dream? Certain, however, it is that
