and what should we do!"

My face was white, I know, for grief always blanched my face and brought
those terribly silent tears, that fall like solemn rain drops--each a
tongue. You must remember that I was a smothered fire in those days.

Louis put his strong arm around me, and stroked my forehead as if I were
a child and he my mother.

"He will not die, little flower, thy brother will live; you must go to
him, and I will go with you. You must not go alone to a great city."

"Oh Louis!" I said, "he had only just begun to love me when he went
away, and now if he dies, what shall I do without him? Prayers have but
little weight, they ought to have saved him, I have prayed so long, so
hard, Louis, for his safety. But I must tell mother." And when she heard
me, and I said I must go to him, she sat down as if in despair; but a
moment after looked almost cheerful as she said:

"You must start to-night, my dear, and I must get all the little
medicines I can think of ready for you to take, and as soon as he is
able he must come home. If it is a fever, I fear for his lungs."

Clara waited until our talk was over, and then came and said Louis must
go with me; put into my hands a well filled purse, and said:

"Bring the brother back, dear cousin; don't wait for him to get well;
bring him back on a bed if necessary; he will never get well among
strangers."