n rays touch the pillows, close
beside the white face, lighting it with a glory that seems not of the
earth. They fade, and life fades with them, going out as they recede.
With the last pencil of sunbeams passes the soul of Mary Carson.

"It is over!" The physician breathes deeply, and moves backwards from
the bed.

"Over with her," he adds, like one impelled by crowding thoughts to
untimely utterance. "The bills of mortality will say pneumonia--_it
were better written murder_."

Call it murder, or suicide, as you will; only, fair reader, see to it
that responsibility in such a case lies never at your door.

X.

THE NURSERY MAID.

_I DID_ not feel in a very good humor either with myself or with Polly,
my nursery maid. The fact is, Polly had displeased me; and I, while
under the influence of rather excited feelings, had rebuked her with a
degree of intemperance not exactly becoming in a Christian gentlewoman,
or just to a well meaning, though not perfect domestic.

Polly had taken my sharp words without replying. They seemed to stun
her. She stood for a few moments, after the vials of my wrath were
emptied, her face paler than usual, and her lips almost colorless. Then
she turned and walked from my room with a slow but firm step. There was
an air of purpose about her, and a manner that puzzled me a little.

The thermometer of my feelings was gradually falling, though not yet
reduced very far below fever-heat, when Polly stood again before me. A
red spot now burned on each cheek, and her eyes were steady as she let
them rest in mine.

"Mrs. Wilkins," said she, firmly, yet respectfully, "I am going to
leave when my month is up."

Now, I have my own share of willfulness and impulsive independence. So
I answered, without hesitation or reflection,

"Very well, Polly. If you wish to leave, I will look for another to
fill your place." And I drew myself up with an air of dignity.

Polly retired as quickly as she came, and I was left alone with my not
very agreeable thoughts for companions. Polly had been in my family for
nearly four years, in the capacity of nurse and chamber maid. She was
capable, faithful, kind in her disposition, and industrious. The
children were all attached to her, and her influence over them was
good. I had often said to myself in view of Polly's excellent
qualities, "She is a treasure!" And, always, the thought of losing her
services had been an unpleasant one. Of late, in some thi