y Agnes had
sustained, he found that, independent of the fracture of the spine,
she was much hurt internally. He had no hopes of her recovery, and he
commenced, in a roundabout way to break the opinion to her; but she
saw it already in his face, and interrupted him:

"Ah, Doctor, I know all. Do not hesitate to tell me exactly how long I
have to live. I have no fear of death, I am prepared for it."

The physician thereupon informed her that she might possibly survive
forty-eight hours.

"Forty-eight hours!" she rejoined, "that is much longer than will be
needed for what I wish to do."

Then, in the most composed manner, she dictated to Sister Mary a
letter to her mother, narrating all which had occurred since her
previous letter, including an account of the accident.

This done, the heroic girl prepared to pass whatever of life remained
to her in pious conversation with Sister Mary, and advice and comfort
to poor old Rachel, the negro woman, who hung over her, constantly
weeping.

As it became apparent that dissolution was close at hand, Sister Mary
asked Miss Arnold:

"Agnes, is there any matter relating to your worldly affairs that you
have not already thought of, or that you wish attended to."

"No, Sister, I believe not. Ah, yes, there is," she quickly added; "I
would ask, that when I am gone, you will put my poor body in a grave
immediately beside that of Mr. Harkness. He was my intended husband,
and died only a short time ago with the fever. Also, will you add a
postscript to mother's letter, and say to her that it was my dying
wish, that if she lives, she will at some future time have us both
taken up and brought home, and bury us in one grave there?"

"Indeed, I will do so. Is there nothing else, Agnes?"

There was a great sadness in her voice as Sister Mary asked this, just
as though, years agone, when her own face was young and pretty, and
her own heart happy and free, she had been loved and had lost her love
in the grave.

"No, Sister, nothing more of this world. Come, Death, O come," said
Agnes, as she was seized with a paroxysm of pain.

"In God's good time, Agnes, dear," suggested the Sister.

"Yes, yes, in His good time, Agnes!" repeated the dying girl, as
though chiding herself for her impatience to be gone; "the spirit is
willing, but the flesh is weak."

"Pray, sweet Agnes, pray to Him for strength to keep you, all
unfearful, while passing through the Dark Valley."

"Give me, O, my H