for Ellen's hand. "It is
time she was home," she said to Robert. "Her folks will be worried
about her. She's been a real comfort to me."

It was the first time that Ellen had ever seen death, that she had
ever seen the living confronted with it. She felt as if a wave were
breaking over her own head as she clung fast to Mrs. Lloyd's hand.

"Sha'n't I stay?" she whispered, pitifully, to her. "If I can send
word to my mother--"

"No, you dear child," replied Mrs. Lloyd, "you've done enough, and
you will have to be up early in the morning." Then she checked
herself. "I forgot," said she to Robert; "the factory will be closed
till after the funeral, won't it?"

"Of course it will, Aunt Lizzie."

"And the workmen will be paid just the same, of course," said Mrs.
Lloyd. "Now, can't you take her home, Robert?"

"Oh, don't mind about me," cried Ellen.

"You can have a horse put into the buggy," said Mrs. Lloyd.

"Oh, you mustn't leave her now," Ellen whispered to Robert. "Let
somebody else take me--Dr. James--"

"I would rather you took her," said Mrs. Lloyd. "And you needn't
worry about his leaving me, dear child; the doctor will stay until
he comes back."

As Robert was finally going out his aunt caught his arm and looked
at him with a radiant expression. "He will never know about _me_
now," said she, "and it won't be long before I-- Oh, I feel as if I
had gotten rid of my own death."

She was filled with inexpressible thankfulness that she had herself
to bear what she had dreaded for her husband. "Only think how hard
it would have been for Norman," she said to Cynthia, the next day.

Cynthia looked at her wonderingly. She could have understood this
feeling over a dearly beloved child. "You are a good woman, Lizzie,"
she said, in a tone of pitiful respect.

"Not half as good a woman as he was a man," returned Mrs. Lloyd,
jealously. "Norman wasn't a professor, I know, but he was a
believer. You don't think it is necessary to be a professor in order
to be saved, do you, Cynthia?"

"I certainly do not," Cynthia replied. "I wish you would go and lie
down, Lizzie."

"Oh, I can't. I wouldn't let anybody do these things but me, for the
whole world." Mrs. Lloyd was arranging flowers, tuberoses and white
carnations, in vases, and the whole house was scented with them. She
looked ghastly, yet still unconquerably happy. She had now no reason
to conceal the ravages of disease, and her color was something
frightful.