so near and dear as her husband made her almost
inconsolable. Her parents had both been dead some years, and she was
their only child. And as it often happens, while so many people have
relations in numbers almost too abundant, she had none. Her only great
friends were in Malta, friends whom she had known in the dear old days,
when all seemed so bright and hopeful before her. It was therefore but
natural that she should cling to the doctor's good wife; and thus their
friendship, born as it was of a time of sorrow and suffering, was one
of pure and holy comfort to them both.

And the morning crept on, with words of heaven softly uttered by the
living, and drunk in with eager ears by the dying; and outside the
birds sang, and the green trees whispered, stretching out their tiny
leaf-hands to the caressant breezes, and all was summery there
without,--all was sunshine and gladness. And through the heedless
village ran Harry, heart-broken and afraid, and entered, from the
brightness, his mother's peaceful room of death. He was past all
crying now. The tears seemed dried up in one great burning spot within
his brain. He stood quietly by the bed, longing to hear that
well-known voice, but not daring to speak; she lay so still he scarcely
knew whether she were alive or really dead.

"Here is Harry, dear Mrs Campbell," said the doctor's wife; "he has
come from school. Don't you know him? Here he is."

She turned her large grey eyes upon her boy for some time without
recognising him. Then, at last, opening her arms, said:

"Harry, darling, is that you? I'm going away now--going to heaven.
You'll always be a good boy, won't you?"

"Mamma, mamma, you _do_ believe I'm innocent, don't you?" said Harry.
He could not let her die without hearing once more from own lips her
trustful confidence in him.

"Yes, darling boy, I know you have spoken the truth. Kiss me now," she
whispered, her voice growing weaker. "Good-bye, darling Harry; God
bless you! Good-bye, dear Mrs Bromley. Good-bye, Mrs Valentine. God
will reward you!" And then her voice was hardly audible as she
murmured to herself, "Buried at Wilton, and Alan will come and see my
grave. Alan, darling Alan, God is taking me home." And then as a
heavenly light shone through her eyes, her voice regained its strength.
"Into thy hand, O Lord I commend my spirit!" and so she died.

Harry's face was pressed close to hers, and his burning tears now fell
thick up