"Would it not be well to give yourself one more day of rest?" he asked, gazing sadly at the wan cheeks and the mournful eyes that looked so unnaturally large. "I do not think you are strong enough yet for anything like exertion." "I think the sweet work of comforting and caring for my darlings--his children as well as mine," she said with a tremble in her voice, "will do me good." "It is partly for their sakes that I want you to take care of yourself," he said, putting his arm about her, while her head dropped on his shoulder. "Would it not have been _his_ wish? were you not always his first care?" She gave a silent assent, the tears coursing down her cheeks. "And he gave you back to me, making you doubly mine--my own darling, precious child! and your life, health and happiness must be my special charge," he said, caressing her with exceeding tenderness. "My happiness? Then, papa, you will not try to keep me from my darlings. My dear, dear father, do not think I am ungrateful for your loving care. Ah, it is very sweet and restful to lean upon you and feel the strong tender clasp of your arm! but I must rouse myself and become a prop for others to lean upon." "Yes, to some extent--when you are quite rested. But you must bear no burdens, dear daughter, that your father can bear for you." She looked her gratitude out of tear-dimmed eyes. "God has been very good to me, in sparing me, my father," she said. "And my children, my seven darlings--all good and loving. How rich I ought to feel! how rich I do feel, though so sorely bereaved." The tears burst forth afresh. "You will let me go to them?" she said when she could speak again. "To-morrow, if you will try to rest and gain strength to-day. I am quite sure it is what he would have wished--that you should rest a little longer. The children can come to you for an hour or two to-day." She yielded for that time, and the next day he withdrew his opposition and himself led her down to the breakfast parlour, where all were gathered to partake of the morning meal. CHAPTER V. "Weep not for him that dieth, For he hath ceased from tears." --_Mrs. Norton._ There was much unselfish love for their mamma and for each other displayed by the young Travillas in those sad days immediately following the death of their dearly loved father. Every heart ached sorely with its own burden of grief--excepting that of little Walter, who was too young to understand or realize his loss, yet was most solicitous to assuage that of the brothers and sisters, but especially to comfort and help "poor, dear, dear mamma." They were filled with alarm as they saw their grandfather almost carry her to her room, then close the door upon them. "Oh," cried Violet, clinging to her older sister, and giving way to a burst of terrified weeping, "I knew it would be so! mamma will die too. Oh mamma, mamma!"