But the mother! That first night she had scarcely closed an eye, but continually her heart was going up in earnest supplications for grace and strength to meet this sore trial with patience, calmness, and submission.
And surely the prayer was heard and answered; day and night she was with her suffering little one, watching beside its crib, or holding it in her arms, soothing it with tender words of mother love, or singing, in low sweet tones, of Jesus and the happy land.
Plenty of excellent nurses were at hand, more than willing to relieve her of her charge; but she would relinquish it to no one; except when compelled to take a little rest that her strength might not utterly fail her.

Even then she refused to leave the room, but lay where the first plaintive cry, "Mamma," would rouse her and bring her instantly to her darling's side.
At times the big tears might be seen coursing down her cheek, as she gazed mournfully upon the baby face so changed from what it was; but voice and manner were quiet and composed.
Her husband was almost constantly at her side, sharing the care, the grief and anxiety, and the nursing, so far as she would let him.

Rose, too, and Mr.Dinsmore, were there every hour of the day, and often in the night, scarcely less anxious and grief-stricken than the parents, and Mr.
Dinsmore especially, trembling for the life and health of the mother as well as the child.
At length came a day when all knew and felt that wee Elsie was at the very brink of the grave, and the little thread of life might snap asunder at any moment.
She lay on her pillow on her mother's lap, the limbs shrunken to half their former size, the face, but lately so beautiful with the bloom of health, grown wan and thin, with parched lips and half-closed, dreamy eyes.
Mr.Travilla sat close beside them, with cup and spoon in hand, now and then moistening the dry lips.

Chloe, who had stationed herself a little behind her mistress to be within call, was dropping great tears on the soldier's stocking in her hand.
Mr.Dinsmore came softly in and stood by the little group, his features working with emotion.

"My darling," he murmured, "my precious daughter, may God comfort and sustain you." "He does, papa," she answered in low, calm tones, as she raised her head and lifted her mournful eyes to his face; "His consolations are not small in the trying hour." "You can give her up ?" he asked, in a choking voice, looking with anguish upon the wasted features of his almost idolized grandchild.
"Yes, papa--if He sees fit to take her; 'twere but selfishness to want to keep her here.