It was a warm, drowsy afternoon, and at last, worn out
with weeping, and the fatigue of the last night's watching, she
fell asleep, as the baby had done before. Not long had she sat
thus, when Mr. Hastings, too, came down the graveled walk, and
stood at the arbor door. The constant bustling in and out of
Eugenia annoyed him, and wishing to be alone, he had come out into
the open air, which he felt would do him good. When his eye fell
on Dora, who was too soundly sleeping to be easily aroused, he
murmured, "Poor child! she is wearied with so many wakeful
nights;" then fearing lest the slender arms should relax their
hold and drop the babe, he took it gently from her, and folding it
to his bosom, sat down by her side, so that her drooping head
could rest upon his shoulder.
For two long hours she slept, and it was not until the baby's
waxen fingers gave a vigorous pull to her short thick hair, that
she awoke, feeling greatly surprised when she saw Mr. Hastings
sitting near.
"I found you asleep," he said, by way of explanation, "and knowing
how tired you were, I gave you my arm for a pillow;" then, as the
baby wished to go to her, he gave it up, himself going slowly back
to the lonesome house, from which Ella was gone forever.
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