This outburst of feeling came forth from Dudleigh's inmost heart, and was spoken with a passionate fervor which showed how deeply he felt what he said. Every word thrilled through Edith. Bitter self-reproach at that moment came to her, as she thought of her own relations to her father. What Dudleigh's had been she did not know, but she saw that in him her father had found a son. And what had his daughter been to him? Of that she dared not think. Her heart was wrung with sharp anguish at the memories of the past, while at the same time she felt drawn more closely to Dudleigh, who had thus been to him all that she had failed to be. Had she spoken what she thought, she would have thanked and blessed him for those words. But she did not dare to trust herself to speak of that; rather she tried to restrain herself; and when she spoke, it was with a strong effort at this self-control. “Well,” she said, in a voice which was tremulous in spite of all her efforts, “this shows how dear you must be to him, since he has found such love in you, and so for his sake you must spare yourself. You must not stay here so constantly.” “Who is there to take my place?” asked Dudleigh, quietly. “I,” said Edith. Dudleigh smiled. “Do you think,” said he, “that I would allow that? Even if I needed more rest, which I do not, do you think that I would take it at your expense--that I would go away, enjoy myself, and leave you to bear the fatigue? No, Miss Dalton; I am not quite so selfish as that.” “But you will let me stay here more than I do,” said Edith, earnestly. “I may as well be here as in my own room. Will you not let me have half the care, and occasionally allow you to take rest?” She spoke timidly and anxiously, as though she was asking some favor. And this was the feeling that she had, for it seemed to her that this man, who had been a son to her father, had more claims on his love, and a truer right here, than she, the unworthy daughter. Dudleigh smiled upon her with infinite tenderness as he replied: “Half the care! How could you endure it? You are too delicate for so much. You do too much already, and I am only anxious to relieve you of that. I was going to urge you to give up half of the afternoon, and take it myself.” “Give up half the afternoon!” cried Edith. “Why, I want to do more.” “But that is impossible. You are not strong enough,” said Dudleigh. “I fear all the time that you are now overworking yourself. I would never forgive myself if you received any harm from this.” “Oh, I am very much stronger than you suppose. Besides, nursing is woman's work, and would fatigue me far less than you.” “I can not bear to have you fatigue yourself in any way. You must not--and I would do far more rather than allow you to have any trouble.” “But even if my health should suffer, it would not be of much consequence. So at least let me relieve you of something.”