Part 26 (2/2)

”Haven't you taken any rest?” asked John, dubious about her statement.

”I lie down on the couch there sometimes,” pointing to one in the room; ”but I cannot sleep.”

”I fear the trial will be too much for you, Miss Barton.”

”Oh, it is no trial for me to sit here, where I can see her dear face all the time,” responded Star, and then she burst into tears, and John could hardly restrain his own from flowing, through his deep sympathy for her in her simple faith.

Just then Edith turned her face toward them, and gazed wildly about with her pretty blue eyes rolling in their sockets. Then she threw one hand over the side of the bed. John lifted it up tenderly, and laid it back in place, and then it was that he became aware of how feverish she was.

Edith mumbled something.

”She is making an effort to speak your name,” said Star, who was now used to her strange fancyings, and could interpret almost any unintelligible word she spoke. Then bending over Edith, she said: ”He is here, dear Edith.”

Edith looked up at Star, with what appeared to be a faint smile. Star took one hand, and held it, patting it lovingly. ”Here he is, dear Edith; don't you see him?” she said, as Edith now uttered the name distinctly.

Edith paid no heed to Star, but rolled her head and muttered John's name. Then she became calmer, and lay still; arousing herself after a few minutes, and repeating the name again.

”He is here, Edith, by your bedside; can't you see?” said Star, bending over her. ”Come closer, Mr. Winthrope, that she might see you.”

John thereat moved nearer to the bed, and leaned over her.

”Here is Mr. Winthrope, Edith,” said Star, as she placed a hand upon her hot forehead.

Edith turned her head, and sighed. Her eyes ceased their starey look.

She became calmer; sighed again. Then, without a.s.sistance, she raised herself up, and her long hair fell over her shoulders. In her illness now, John thought she was prettier than before when he saw her in her best of health. As she arose, Star caught her by the shoulders, and made an attempt to lay her down on her pillow again; but Edith shook her off, with her fever-strength supreme in her. She then crossed her hands before her, bent her head forward; then threw it backward, and gazed across the room to the farther wall, like one staring into the infinitude of time in its blankness.

John sat watching her, moved to piteous supplication for this fair young lady in her distress of mind.

”Star,” said Edith, turning upon Miss Barton, in a strange clear voice, ”have you seen Mr. Winthrope?”

”Here he is, dear Edith,” replied Star, stroking her hair. ”Here by your bed; don't you see him?”

”That is not Mr. Winthrope,” she answered, in the same strange tone.

”No, no, dear Edith; he is here--Mr. Winthrope look into her face?” said Star, turning to John, whose head was bowed under the weight of the impression that this girl's ravings made on him. John obeyed Star's request, and looked Edith in the face. Edith then put out a hand, and touched that of his; then fell back, burying her head in her soft pillow, with her hands over her face.

”She knows you,” whispered Star.

”Shall I retire?” asked John, believing that the crisis had been reached.

”Oh, not yet,” answered Star. Then leaning over Edith again, said: ”Edith, do you want to see Mr. Winthrope again before he goes?”

Edith reached out a hand toward him, turned her head, and let her eyes move slowly in his direction. Then she laid her hand upon his. He picked it up, and she permitted him to hold it.

”Mr. Winthrope?” she said.

”I am he,” he replied.

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