“Oh, no,” was the reply; “not until we have had more time to judge whether she is likely to be very ill; it may prove but a slight attack.”

“I shall write this very day,” was Adelaide’s mental resolve, though she said nothing.

Mrs. Dinsmore hurried her preparations, and the middle of the afternoon found Adelaide and Elsie sole occupants of the house, with the exception of the servants.  Adelaide watched the carriage as it rolled away, and then, with feelings of sadness and desolation, and a mind filled with anxious forebodings, returned to her station at Elsie’s bedside.

The child was tossing about, moaning, and talking incoherently, and Adelaide sighed deeply at the thought that this was perhaps but the beginning of a long and serious illness, while she was painfully conscious of her own inexperience and want of skill in nursing.

“Oh!” she exclaimed half aloud, “if I only had some kind, experienced friend to advise and assist me, what a blessed relief it would be!”

There was a sound of carriage-wheels on the gravel walk below, and hastily turning to Chloe, she said, “Go down and tell them I must be excused.  I cannot see visitors while my little niece is so very ill.”

Chloe went, but returned almost immediately, followed by Mrs. Travilla.

With a half-smothered exclamation of delight, Adelaide threw herself into the kind, motherly arms extended to receive her, and burst into tears.  Mrs. Travilla let them have their way for a moment, while she stroked her hair caressingly, and murmured a few soothing words.  Then she said, softly, “Edward called at the gate this morning, and learned all about it; and I knew you were but young, and would feel lonely and anxious, and I love the dear child as if she were my own, and so I have come to stay and help you nurse her, if you will let me.”

"Let you! dear Mrs. Travilla; I can never repay your kindness.”

Mrs. Travilla only smiled, and pressed the hand she held; and then quietly laying aside her bonnet and shawl, took up her post at the bedside, with the air of one quite at home, and intending to be useful.

“It is such an inexpressible relief to see you sitting there,” whispered Adelaide.  “You don’t know what a load you have taken off my mind.”

But before Mrs. Travilla could reply, Elsie started up in the bed, with a wild outcry:  “Oh, don’t, papa! don’t send me there!  They will kill me! they will torture me!  Oh, let me stay at home with you, and I will be very good.”

Mrs. Travilla spoke soothingly to her, and persuaded her to lie down again.

Elsie looked at her quite rationally, and holding out her hand, with a faint smile, said:  “Thank you, Mrs. Travilla; you are very kind to come to see me; I am very sick; my head hurts me so;” and she put her hand up to it, while again her eyes rolled wildly, and she shrieked out, “Oh, Aunt Adelaide! save me! save me! don’t let them take me away to that dreadful place!  Must I go now? to-day?” she asked in piteous accents.  “Oh!  I don’t want to go!” and she clung shuddering to her aunt, who was bending over her, with eyes swimming in tears.