"Indeed, no! Mayn't I stay with you just a little while?"
Ann checked back her emotion and rose.
"Pardon, Dear; I didn't dream that you could."
"Of course I can. Mildred is in Albany. How happy I should be if I could help you!"
"Time only will do that, Fledra. It will take many weeks before Horace and I are running in our old home gait. But I love to have you here, especially as Horace has gone out for a long drive. He will be away all the afternoon."
"That's too bad," interjected Mrs. Vandecar. "I hoped to see him. And, Ann, I want also to see those children."
"The girl is riding with Horace today--she gets out so little, and Brother insisted upon taking her. The boy is still very ill."
"Is he too ill for me to see him?"
Ann hesitated.
"Well, his heart is affected, and anything unusual throws him into a new spell. We keep all trouble from him."
Mrs. Vandecar touched her friend gently.
"And you've had enough of his to bear, poor Ann!"
"We don't consider it a trouble to do anything for those we love. I wonder if you would like to peep at him--making no noise, remember! He is sleeping under a drug. Come, Dear, and I'll look at him first."
The governor's wife followed Ann to Floyd's door, and waited until a beckoning finger called her in. She entered the darkened chamber, and paused a moment to get her bearings. Miss Shellington was near the bed, her eyes calling.
"He's sound asleep," she whispered.
With his head thrown back a little, Floyd's face was turned toward the wall. His profile and thick black curls were sharply distinct upon the white pillow-slip. His broad brow was covered with beads of perspiration, and the lips were muttering incoherent words. Mrs. Vandecar leaned far over the bed, and peered into his face. Something so touched her in the thin, sunken cheeks, in the drawn mouth, whispering in an unnatural sleep, that she drew back weeping. Suddenly words formed on the sleeper's lips: "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild," fell from them, "look upon--look upon--" Then the whisper trailed once more into incoherence.
Fledra Vandecar clutched at Ann's sleeve.
"He's praying, Ann! He's praying!" Miss Shellington bowed her head in assent. "Poor baby, poor little dear!" Mrs. Vandecar's voice was louder than before.
"Hush, hush!" breathed Ann. "Come away. He's so very ill!"