les with numbness. "You have said--for a while;
but you did not promise for longer. If I could only know, Margaret, that
she would be under your care as long as she is so alone in the world,
then, perhaps, it would be easier to die."

These words, pronounced with difficulty one by one, separated by the
slow breaths, seemed to Winthrop indescribably affecting. It was the
last earthly effort of mother-love.

Margaret hesitated. It was only for a moment that she was silent. But
Evert took that moment to come forward, he came to the side of the bed
where she was standing. "Give _me_ your permission, Mrs. Thorne," he
said to the dying woman. "Trust _me_, and I will fill the trust. Garda
shall have every care, my aunt shall take charge of her." He was
indignant with Margaret for hesitating.

But Margaret hesitated no longer. "I think I am the better person," she
interposed, gently. Then, bending forward, she said, with distinctness,
"Mrs. Thorne, Garda shall live with me, or near me under my charge, as
long as she is so young and alone, as long as she needs my care. You
have given me a great trust, I hereby accept it; and I will keep it
with all the faithfulness I can." Her voice took on an almost solemn
tone as the last words were spoken.

Winthrop, glancing at her as she bent forward beside him, perceived that
though she was holding herself in strict control, she was moved by some
deep emotion; he could feel that she was trembling. Again, even then and
there, he gave an instant to the same conjecture which had occupied his
thoughts before. Why should she show emotion? why should her voice take
on that tone? She was not excitable; he had had occasion to know that
she was not afraid of death, she had stood beside too many death-beds in
her visits among the poor (not that he admired her philanthropy); it
could not be that she had suddenly become so fond of poor Mrs. Thorne.
But he left his conjectures unsolved. A faint but beautiful smile was
passing strangely over the mother's face, strangely, because no feature
stirred or changed--she was beyond that--and yet the smile was there;
the eyes became so transfigured that the two who were watching stood
awe-struck; for it seemed as if she were beholding something, just
behind or above them, which was invisible to them, something which had
lifted from her all the pains and cares of her earthly life, and set her
free. For some moments longer the beautiful radiance shone there. Th