They arrived at Roselands some time before the ambulance.  They found the whole household, and also Mrs. Howard, her husband and sons, and Mrs. Travilla, gathered upon the veranda to receive them.

Lora stood by her father’s side and Elsie too was very near, both full of loving care for him in this time of sore trial.

And Adelaide’s first thought, first embrace, were for him.  They wept a moment in each other’s arms.

“Is she—­is she alive?” he faltered.

“Yes, father, and we hope may get up again.  Be comforted for her and for yourself; because ‘He doeth all things well,’ and ’We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.’”

“Yes, yes; and who can tell but this may be His appointed means for bringing her into the fold!”

There had been time for an exchange of greetings all around and a few comforting words to the younger Conlys, when the ambulance was seen entering the avenue.

With beating hearts and tearful eyes they watched its slow progress.  Lying helpless and speechless in the shadow of death, Louise Conly seemed nearer and dearer than ever before to father, children, brothers and sisters.

The ambulance stopped close to the veranda steps, and the same strong, loving arms that had placed her in it now lifted her anew and bore her into the house, the others looking on in awed and tearful silence.

She was carried to her own room, laid upon the bed, and one by one they stood for an instant at her side with a kiss of welcome.

It was evident that she knew them all, though able to speak only with those sad, wistful eyes that gazed with new yearning affection into the faces of father and children.

But presently Arthur, by virtue of his medical authority, banished all from the room except Lora, Elsie, and a faithful and attached old negress who had lived all her days in the family and was a competent nurse.

CHAPTER VI.

“Then come the wild weather—­come sleet or come snow,
We will stand by each other, however it blow;
Oppression and sickness, and sorrow and pain,
Shall be to our true love as links to the chain.”

                            —­Longfellow. (From the German.)

“Courage, sister dear!” whispered Edward Travilla, putting an arm tenderly about Elsie’s waist as they found themselves at the very door of Lester Leland’s studio.

Her face had grown very pale and she was trembling with agitation.

Still supporting her with his arm, Edward rapped gently upon the door, and at the same instant it was opened from within by the attending physician, who had just concluded his morning call upon his patient.

He was an Italian of gentlemanly appearance and intelligent countenance.

“Some friends of Signor Leland:  from America?” he said in good English and with a polite bow.