e snowed up, and that was the
reason why it was so dark.

"I kindled up the fire and lighted a pine knot. Jem and David came up to
the hearth to dress, half crying and fretting for mother. But I pacified
them with a breakfast of bread and milk, and while they were eating it I
ventured to open a door. There was a solid wall of snow, I looked into
the fore-room,--it was as dark as a cellar. Then I ran up my stairs, and
here the little courage I had forsook me, and I grew weak and sick. For
the snow was already even with the ledge of the chamber window, and all
the outbuildings were as completely hidden as if the earth had swallowed
them in the night.

"I ran down stairs hastily, for I heard mother call.

"She looked up at me anxiously. 'How is it, Mercy?'

"'I'm afraid, mother, we are snowed up,' I said.

"'And I'm sick!'

"Mother was sick. That was the worst side of the trouble. It was a
settled fever by this time, I was sure. We both knew it, we both knew
that no help was to be had, and that she might die for want of it. We
were both silent, neither daring to speak, not knowing how to encourage
and strengthen the other.

"Mother grew worse all day, in spite of all that I could do for her. The
darkness in the house was most depressing, and made the situation
tenfold more painful; though I kept a fire and a light burning as at
evening, I had to be economical of both, for there was only a small
stock of fuel and a handful of pine knots in the house. It was painful
to hear the poor cows at the barn lowing for food, and to know that it
was impossible to reach them. I might, perhaps, have gone out on
snow-shoes and managed to get into the barn by the window in the loft;
but father's shoes were loaned to a neighbor, and, even if they had
been at hand, I should hardly dare to risk my strength, not yet
renovated after my sickness, and, which was so essential to mother's
safety, in an effort that might fail.

"So the hours went on, and the day that was like night wore to a close.
In the evening mother brightened up a little. She was calm now, and for
the time free from pain. There was an unearthly beauty in the large,
bright hollow eyes, and the thin cheeks, where the rose of fever burned.
The disease had worked swiftly. Even this revival might be only a
forerunner of death.

"'I want to tell you, dear,' she said, 'what to do in case I should not
get well.'

"I hid my face in the quilt, and tried not to sob, while sh