e went on, in
a sweet, calm, thoughtful way, to tell me of the things that in my
inexperience I might forget. I must not be wasteful of food or fuel; if
the snow--which was still falling--should cover the chimney so that I
could not make a fire, I must wrap myself and the children in all the
warm things I could find,--there were some new blankets in the chest in
the chamber, she said, that she had meant for me. I must get those if I
needed them. 'And if I am not here to encourage you, my child,' she said
tenderly, 'don't give up hoping. Help cannot be very far off. Some of
the neighbors will come to us, or father will work his way through the
snow, and get home. And, Mercy, don't be afraid of the poor body that I
shall leave behind me. Think of it as the empty house that I have used
for a little while, and be sure it can do you no harm.'

"I promised all she asked, and hid my tears as well as I could. While
she slept, and I could do nothing for her, I kept the children quiet
with playthings and stories. I cooked bread and meat, and made a great
kettle of porridge against the time when we might not be able to have a
fire; I hunted in the garret for bits of old boards and broken
furniture that might serve for fuel.

"For two days the wind held, and then there fell an awful silence as of
the grave.

"Sometimes I read from the Psalms, or from the Gospel of John, which
mother dearly loved; and though she did not take much notice, but lay in
a stupor most of the time, the holy words were comfort and company to
me. At other times I sat in mute grief, watching her painful breathing,
and the gradual pinching and sharpening of her features as the
relentless disease worked upon them. O, it was hard! I don't think many
lives know so much and such utter misery. In my anxiety and grief, and
the mental bewilderment resulting from loss of sleep, I forgot to reckon
the days as they passed.

"But one day, as I sat by mother's pillow, my mind full of the dread
that seemed now as if it might any moment be realized,--of the awfulness
of being left alone in that living tomb with the marble image of what
was and yet was not my mother, the clock struck nine in the morning.
Somewhere the sun was shining, I thought. Somewhere there were happy
lovers, merry-makings in divers places, wedding-bells ringing.

"A faint sound disturbed my revery. I started up and listened intently;
but the noise did not recur, and I dropped my head again, thinkin