in God's hand.

The result was an entire relief to her last earthly care. The appointed
day came. The matter took wind. None of our townspeople appeared, to bid
against my guardian; but enough of them were on the spot "to see fair
play," or, in other words, to advance for him whatever sum he might
stand in need of; and the house was knocked down to him at a price even
below its market value. He paid the mortgagee and George their due by
the next mail, but left my title and Fanny's as it was, not to be
settled till I came of age.

These details would only have worried and wearied her; but the
auctioneer's loud voice had hardly died away, or the gathered footsteps
scattered from the door, when the Doctor came to her chamber, flushed
with triumph, to tell us that "Nobody now could turn us out; and
everything was arranged for us to stay." Fanny looked brightly up to
him, and answered: "Now I shall scarcely know what more to pray for, but
God's reward for you." And most of all I thank Him for that news,
because her last day on this earth was such a happy one.

The next morning, just at dawn, she waked me, saying, "O Katy, tell the
Doctor I can't breathe!"

I sprang up, raised her on her pillows, and called him instantly.

She stretched out her hand to him, and gasped, "O Doctor, I can't
breathe! Can't you do anything to help me?"

He felt her pulse quickly, looking at her, and said, very tenderly,
"Have some ether, Fanny. I will run and bring it." Throwing wider open
every window that he passed, he hurried down to the office and back with
the ether.

Eagerly, though with difficulty, she inhaled it; and it relieved her. I
sat and watched her, silent, with her hand in mine.

Presently the door behind me opened softly, as if somebody was looking
in. "My dear," said the Doctor, turning his head, and speaking very
earnestly, though in a low voice, "I _wouldn't_ come here. You can do no
good." But presently his wife came in, in her dressing-gown, very pale,
and sat by me and held the hand that was not holding Fanny's.

And next I knew they thought she would not wake; and then the short
breath stopped. And now it was my turn to stretch out my hands to him
for help; but, looking at me, he burst into tears, as he had not when he
looked at Fanny; and I knew there was no breath more for her, nor any
ether for me. I did not want to go to sleep, because _I_ should have to
wake again; but his wife was sobbing aloud. I knew how d