"Oh, my son, my son!" The gentlemen looked uneasily at each other, scarcely knowing what consolation to offer; but a well known step approached, hastily, yet with caution, and the next instant Elsie was clasped in her father's arms.
"My darling, my poor darling!" he said with emotion, as she laid her head on his breast, with a burst of almost hysterical weeping.
He caressed her silently.

How could he ask the question trembling on his lips?
what meant this bitter weeping?
His eye sought that of the physician, who promptly answered the unspoken query with the same cheering report he had just given her.
Mr.Dinsmore was intensely relieved.

"Thank God that it is no worse!" he said in low, reverent tones.

"Elsie, daughter, cheer up, he will soon be well again." Mr.Leland, taking leave, offered to return and watch by the sick bed that night; but Mr.Dinsmore, while joining Elsie in cordial thanks, claimed it as his privilege.
"Ah, well, don't hesitate to call upon me whenever I can be of use," said Mr.Leland, and with a kindly "Good evening," he and the doctor retired, Mr.Dinsmore seeing them to the door.
Returning, he found Elsie still in the parlor where he had left her.
She was speaking to a servant, "Go, Prilla, look for the children, and bring them in.

It is getting late for them to be out." The girl went, and Elsie saying to her father that Prilla had brought word that Mr.Travilla was now sleeping, begged him to sit down and talk with her for a moment.