y that
Mary bore up under the news, and, after the physician had gone, she had
a fit of passionate sobbing. For the sake of her father, however, she
wiped away her tears, and endeavoured to appear calm before she went to
him.

During the succeeding days Mary attended her father with the utmost
devotion and loving care. Rarely had he to make his requests known, for
his daughter could read in his eyes all that he wanted. Mary spent
whole nights by his bedside. If at any time she consented to be
relieved for a little rest, it was but rarely that she could close her
eyes. If her father coughed, she trembled with apprehension; if he made
the least stir, she immediately approached him softly and on tiptoe to
know how he was. She prepared and brought to him in the most delicate
forms the food which best suited his condition. She arranged his
pillows from time to time, read to him, and prayed for him continually.
Even when he dozed for a little she would stand by his bed with her
hands clasped and her tearful eyes raised to heaven.

Mary had a little money which she had saved from her hard-won earnings.
To scrape together this small sum she had often spent half the night in
sewing and knitting articles for sale. Now, in her father's illness,
she made use of this little store to procure for him everything which
she thought would be of any service. Good old James, although
occasionally he felt himself a little stronger, was never deceived
about his condition, but felt only too sure that he was on his
deathbed. The thought had no power to disturb him, and he spoke to his
daughter of his approaching death with the greatest serenity.

"Oh," said Mary, crying bitterly, "do not speak thus, my dear father. I
cannot bear the thought. What will become of me? Alas, your poor Mary
will no longer have any one upon the earth!"

"Do not cry, my dear child," said her father affectionately, holding
out his hand to her. "You have a kind Father in heaven who will never
forsake you, although your earthly father be taken away from you. I do
not feel anxious about the manner in which you will gain a livelihood
when I am dead, for the birds easily find their food, and you will find
enough to nourish you. God provides for the smallest sparrow; will He
not also provide for you? The thought that distresses me," he
continued, "is that you will be left alone. Alas, my dear child, you
have little idea of the wickedness that is in the world! There will