“Sane, but not better.  I shall never be that; but I want to thank you for all you have done for us—­for mother and me.  You were with me when father died I remember all you did for me then, and I prayed God to bless you for it many a time; and now, I am going where father has gone, and shall sleep by him in the little yard at home, for they will take me back; mother has promised—­I could not rest here in Rome, lovely as the grave-yard is.  Flossie told me you were to leave to-morrow, and I wanted to say good-by, and tell you how much good you have done me, though you do not know it.  Neil told me once of your resolve to make somebody happy every day, and I have never forgotten it, and have in my poor way tried to do so, too, in imitation of you, but have failed so miserably; while you—­oh, Mr. Jerrold, you are so noble and good.  You have made so many happy.  God bless you, and give you everything which you desire most.”

She was too much exhausted to talk any more, and closing her eyes, she lay as if asleep, while Grey watched her with the bitterest pain in his heart he had ever known.  Would she die?  Must he give her up?  Was there yet no brightness, no happiness in the world for her, whose life had been one of sacrifice and toil?  He could not think so, and all his soul went out in one continuous prayer:  “Don’t let Bessie die.”

All day she lay motionless as the dead, scarcely lifting even an eyelid, or showing that she was conscious of what was passing around her, save when her mother’s low, moaning cry, “Bessie, oh, Bessie, I cannot give you up,” sounded through the room.  Then she moved uneasily, and said: 

“Don’t, mother, please; God knows best.  He will care for you—­and you—­you—­will keep your promise?”

“Yes, child; so help me God!” Daisy answered, excitedly.  “I promised you to be a better woman, and I will; but oh, my Heavenly Father, don’t let Bessie die.”

It was the echo of Grey’s prayer, and Flossie took it up and made it hers, and so the day wore on and the night stole into the quiet room, and it was time for Grey to say good-by, for he was to leave on the early train, and he had yet much to do in settling bills both for himself and Daisy, and providing for her needs in case Neil did not come.

“If I thought he would not be with you to-morrow I would stay, though to do so would greatly disappoint my Aunt Lucy,” he said to Daisy, who was unselfish enough to bid him go, though she knew how she should miss him, and fell intuitively that twenty Neils could not fill his place.

“I cannot ask you to stay longer.  May God bless you for all you have been to us,” she said, as she took his hand at parting, and then turned away with a feeling of utter desolation in her heart.

Only Flossie was with Bessie, who was sleeping quietly, when Grey entered the room to say farewell to the young girl, whose face looked so small and thin, and white as it rested upon the pillows.  When her fever was at its height and her heavy hair seemed to trouble her, her physician had commanded it to be cut off.