Her child they looked on as their own, and cherished her with almost a parent’s love and care; while they resolved to bring her up in those high and holy principles that had been so nobly contended for by her unfortunate father, and so beautifully exemplified in the amiable character of her mother.

The fever ran high, and bore down all the strength—­both moral and physical—­of its victim.  At length, after days and nights of restlessness and delirium, a deep and heavy sleep came on; and Edith lay still and motionless for hours, while her untiring friends sat watching her in silence, and offering up fervent prayers for the soul that seemed to be departing.  During this anxious period, a gentle knock was made at the door; and Elliot, on opening it, was presented by Edith’s single attendant with the small packet that Roger’s Indian messenger had brought for her mistress.

In trembling agitation, the pastor showed the direction—­which he knew to be in his friend’s handwriting—­to his wife:  and now, indeed, they lifted up their hearts to the God who heareth prayer, that He would be pleased to recall the precious life that seemed to be fast ebbing away; and to permit His tried and faithful servants again to be united, and enjoy the happiness that yet might be their portion on earth.

Noiselessly Elliot glided from the room—­for he feared to awaken the sleeper—­and sought the friendly Indian, from whom he learnt the good news of Roger’s safety, and all the particulars that the red man could relate concerning him.  He then returned to Edith’s chamber, and, in a low whisper, communicated all that he had heard to his wife, and consulted with her as to the best method of communicating the startling tidings to Edith, should she ever awake from her present death-like slumber.

They were still engaged in earnest, but scarcely audible, conversation, when Dame Elliot, who did not cease from watching her patient, observed her open her large eyes, and fix them with a look of intelligent inquiry on herself and her husband.  She made a sign to him; and he likewise was struck with the evident change in Edith’s countenance, and filled with hope that her reason had perfectly returned.  This hope was quickly confirmed by the invalid saying in a very low voice, but in a collected manner—­

’I have slept very long, and my dreams have been very painful.  I dreamt that I was alone in the world, and that an angel came to take my soul where he had gone to dwell.  And then—­just as I bade farewell to earth—­a little form came between me and the angel, and held me back.  Where is that little being?  Dame Elliot, let me look on her, that my trembling spirit may be stayed.  No, Roger; no—­I must not ask to follow you yet.’

Edith seemed too weak for tears, or for any strong emotion; but she closed her eyes, and slowly clasped her almost transparent hands upon her breast, and looked so still and colorless, that she might have been taken for a marble monument, but for the dark waving hair that fell upon her pillow, and shaded her snowy neck.  Dame Elliot took up the infant from its little wicker cradle, and held it towards Edith, saying gently—­