Mother and daughter stood ready to receive their new charge, and see him comfortable in the warm, soft bed which they had prepared for him.
"Thee will soon get rested now, friend, and go to sleep,--won't thee?" said Mrs. Coffin, in her gentle voice, as she turned down the sheet a little more evenly.
"Where is it?" panted the exhausted sufferer, trying to look beyond his kind nurse into the room.
"It is this thing, mother," said Faith, bringing it forward, and leaning it against the wall at the foot of the bed. "He brought it with him," continued she, in a low voice; "and father says, he didn't seem to care half so much about his own comfort as to have _that_ safe."
"It is my--property,--all I have--left. I won't be--parted from it. You--sha'n't take it--away," gasped the sick man, in an excited tone.
"Thee shall not be parted from it, friend," said Mrs. Coffin, soothingly. "Surely we would not deprive thee of what is thine own, and what thee seems to value so much. Now if thee will try to go to sleep, I will stay with thee the while, and when thee wakes give thee some broth to strengthen thee."
"Let--let _her_ stay.--Go away,--the rest of you," whispered the feeble voice, while the weary eyes rested upon Faith's grave, sweet face.
"Thee means my daughter? Faith, does thee wish to stay? or had thee rather I should?"
"Very well, daughter. When thee is weary, come down, and I, or one of the women, will take thy place."
Mrs. Coffin left the room, and Faith, her sewing in her hand, was about seating herself by the fire, when the voice of the stranger summoned her to the bedside.
Turning, she found his hollow and gleaming eyes fixed sternly upon her, while a long, lean finger was pointed alternately at her and the frame leaning against the wall.
"Can I do something for you?" asked Faith, kindly.
"Don't you look at it--or let any one--else, while I'm--asleep."
"Nay, friend, that would be wrong," replied the girl, unconsciously adopting the phraseology of the Quakers, while expressing a sentiment learned from them; for though Faith had been brought up outwardly in the creed of her father, she had, without being aware of it, adopted many of the tenets to which her mother held.
"I will promise you very solemnly, however," continued she, "that I will neither look at yonder thing nor allow any one else to do so; and you will be wrong to doubt my word."