She was about leaving the room, when she turned back, saying in a whisper, “Mother, mother, her door is wide open, as well as this one, and she must have heard every word!”

“Oh, horror!” exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton; “go in and ascertain the fact, if possible.”

It took but one glance to convince Lenora that Carrie was in possession of the secret.  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wet with tears; and when Lenora stooped to kiss her, she said.  “I know it all, I heard it all.”

“Then I hope you feel better,” said Mrs. Hamilton, coming forward.  “Listeners never hear any good of themselves.”

“Particularly if it’s Widow Carter who is listened to,” suggested Lenora.

Mrs. Hamilton did not reply to this, but continued speaking to Carrie.  “If you have heard anything new you can keep it to yourself.  No one has interfered with you, or intends to.  Your father has a right to do what he chooses with his own, and I shall see that he exercises that right, too.”

So saying she left the room, while Carrie, again bursting into tears, wept until perfectly exhausted.  The next morning she was attacked with bleeding at the lungs, which in a short time reduced her so low that the physician spoke doubtfully of her recovery, should the hemorrhage again return.  In the course of two or three days she was again attacked; and now, when there was no longer hope of life, her thoughts turned with earnest longings toward her absent father and sister, and once, as the physician was preparing to leave her, she said, “Doctor, tell me truly, can I live twenty-four hours?”

“I think you may,” was the answer.

“Then I shall see them, for if you telegraph to-night they can come in the morning train.  Go yourself and have it done, will you?”

The physician promised that he would, and then left the room.  In the hall he met Mrs. Hamilton, who with the utmost anxiety depicted upon her countenance, said, “Dear Carrie is leaving us, isn’t she?  I have telegraphed for her father, who will be here in the morning.  ’Twas right to do so, was it not?”

“Quite right,” answered the physician.  “I promised to see to it myself, and was just going to do so.”

“Poor child,” returned Mrs. Hamilton, “she feels anxious, I suppose.  But I have saved you the trouble.”

The reader will not, perhaps, be greatly surprised to learn that what Mrs. Hamilton had said was false.  She suspected that one reason why Carrie so greatly desired to see her father was to tell him what she had heard, and beg of him to undo what he had done; and as she feared the effect which the sight and words of his dying child might have upon him, she resolved, if possible, to keep him away until Carrie’s voice was hushed in death.  Overhearing what had been said by the doctor, she resorted to the stratagem of which we have just spoken.  The next morning, however, she ordered a telegram to be despatched, knowing full well that her husband could not reach home until the day following.