raced the several corners, and the carved mahogany bedstead, behind
whose ample curtains of azure velvet the sleeper reposed, among
white-piled cushions of softest down, vied in elegant luxury with the
couch of an eastern princess. And there, with one white, wasted arm
thrown above the head, all shorn of its bright wealth of auburn curls,
and the other concealed 'neath the silken coverings, lay Edith Malcome,
the blue veins almost starting from her pale brow, and a bright crimson
spot on the sunken cheek. Alas, that earth's most lovely should fall the
earliest victims to the withering hand of disease! The door did softly
asunder, and her father entered. With an expression of deep care and
suffering depicted on his handsome features, he approached the bed-side.

"Is she still sleeping?" demanded he, in a whisper which would have been
inaudible to an ear less quick than that of the silent watcher.

"She is," was the ready answer, in the same hushed tone. He gazed
intently for several moments on the attenuated form before him, while
every variety of expression passed over his countenance.

"If she dies," said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "what
will be left on earth to me?"

The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O,
speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; the
doctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to be
taken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left on
earth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded by
admiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son to
perpetuate your name"----

"Say no more," interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure your
words."

Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant to
soothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on the
soft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of the
bed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict."

Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbing
temples. Louise trembled.

"Your brow is feverish," said she at length, seeking an excuse to
withdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion."

"No," said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion," still
detaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained a
quantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith.
Opening her l