his taint with every breath
Upwafted from the innocent flowers."

When she had eaten all she could, she went back to Aunt Victoria.

"Shall we read the psalms?" she said.

"Yes, dear," the old lady answered. "I have been waiting for you a
long time, Beth."

"Aunt Victoria, I am very sorry," Beth protested. "I didn't think."

"Ah, Beth," the old lady said sorrowfully, "how often is that to be
your excuse? You are always thinking, but it is only your own wild
fancies that occupy you. When will you learn to think of others?"

"I try always," Beth answered sincerely; "but what am I to do when
'wild fancies' come crowding in spite of me, and all I ought to
remember slips away?"

"Pray," Aunt Victoria answered austerely. "Prayer shapes a life; and
those lives are the most beautiful which have been shaped by prayer.
Prayer is creative; it transposes intention into action, and makes it
inevitable for us to be and to do more than would be possible by any
other means."

There was a short silence, and then Miss Victoria began the psalm. It
was a joy to Beth to hear her read, she read so beautifully; and it
was from her that Beth herself acquired the accomplishment, for which
she was afterwards noted. Verse by verse they read the psalms together
as a rule, and Beth was usually attentive; but that evening, before
the end, her attention became distracted by a loud ticking; and the
last word was scarcely pronounced before she exclaimed, looking about
her--"Aunt Victoria, what is that ticking? I see no clock."

The old lady looked up calmly, but she was very pale. "You do hear it
then?" she replied. "It has been going on all day."

Beth's heart stood still an instant, and, in spite of the heat, her
skin crisped as if the surface of her body had been suddenly sprayed
with cold water. "The Death Watch!" she ejaculated.

The ticking stopped a moment as if in answer to the words, and then
began again. A horrible foreboding seized upon Beth.

"Oh, no--no, not that!" she exclaimed, shuddering; and then, all at
once, she threw herself upon her knees beside Aunt Victoria, clasped
her arms round her, and burst into a tempest of tears and sobs.

"Beth, Beth, my dear child," the old lady cried in dismay, "control
yourself. It is only a little insect in the wood. It may mean
nothing."

"It does mean something," Beth interrupted vehemently; "I know--I
always know. The smell of death has been about me all the afternoon,
but I