Page:Bianca, or, The Young Spanish Maiden (Toru Dutt).djvu/38

Rh Et toujours cette odeur amoureuse m'arrive

Avec le dernier chant d'un rossignol lointain

Et les premiers cris de la grive"

"It's a sad story, father, isn't it?" She closed her eyes and fell into a sort of drowsy stupor.

It was on an evening in the latter part of July that Bianca first began to recover. Garcia had been sitting by the bed wrapt in a sad and depressing reverie; buried in his own thoughts he murmured to himself unconsciously,

A sob startled him; he turned towards the bed;—"Bianca!"—She turned round, after a moment's delay; she had wiped away the recent tears, but the traces remained. He took her hand in his; "Father;" she sad, and her voice trembled; "don't say that; I shall never leave you; I shall always be with you." Her brown eyes were shining lucid and calm through her rising tears. "Will you Bianca?" "Yes, father." There was a silence; Garcia was humbly thanking God for his mercy. "But father, why are you sitting here?" "You have been very ill, Bianca." "Have I? And you have been keeping awake at night. Now that's very wrong, father; you must go to bed." "It's only nine o'clock now, child." "Never mind; how long have I been ill?" "More than a month now, Bianca." "And you have been fretting about me, all this time!" She exclaimed. "That's too bad. Now go to bed, this instant, like a good boy, father! Indeed I shall never sleep if you keep awake." And she tried to sit up. "How weak I am!" She said, and lay down again. "Father; now do go to bed. If you fall ill, who will take care of me?" He was obliged to go away to his own room.

The next morning, very early, when Martha came to Bianca's room, her joy knew no bounds when she saw her young mistress "like her dear own sel' agin." When Garcia entered his daughter's room, he found her, dressed in a neat print dressing-gown; her black hair was brushed away smoothly (she was too weak to be able to bind it) behind her small