ER III

Each day brought graduation day nearer, and Mrs. Blaine, becoming more
and more nervous as the great event approached, made strenuous efforts
to get the dress finished in time. There were vexatious delays without
number. It was difficult to find the right material or else something
went wrong with the measurements and all had to be done over again.
From morning till night, day after day, the old lady sat in doors, at
the table piled high with dressmaker's litter, deeply engrossed in her
self-appointed labor of love.

In vain Virginia and Fanny protested. Their mother refused to listen
to them. This dress, she insisted, was her one joy in life. It would
be cruel to deprive her of anything which afforded her so much
pleasure. They said no more, but they noticed with alarm that each day
their mother seemed to age a year. Her cheeks became more hollow, her
face more chalky white. She complained continually of pains in the
region of the heart, and it was plainly discernible that she was
rapidly growing more feeble.

One day when Dr. Everett was paying them one of his regular weekly
visits Virginia took him aside and told him of her anxiety. He seemed
to know already what she had to say. Taking both her hands in his, in
that big-hearted, paternal manner so characteristic of him, he said
impressively:

"Dear child--you must be brave. You cannot expect to have your mother
always with you. She is tired and world-weary. She has earned that
beautiful, eternal sleep which alone brings perfect peace. An organic
disease of the heart, which remained latent up to the time of your
father's death, has now become very pronounced. Trouble and sorrow
have aggravated the condition. Your mother may live for years; then
again she may pass away from us any time. One never can tell what will
happen when the heart is in that state."

A long spell of weeping followed this confidential chat with the
doctor, and for days Virginia went about only a shadow of her former
self.

How cruel was life! she mused. First to lose her father, and now her
best, her only friend! What would she do when her mother was gone?
Fanny was hardly a companion. She was so different; her tastes and
pursuits were not the same. There was not the same bond of sympathy
between them. If anything happened, they would, of course, go on
living together as usual, but how different their life would be!

Nothing further had been said regarding Mr. Gillie's proposal.