John’s mustached lip curled a little scornfully as he read it.

“Why, puss, that girl or woman is in Georgia by this time, and as the result of this, Terrace Hill will be thronged with unfortunate women and children, desiring situations.  Better let me burn this, as I did the other, and not be foolish.  She will never see it,” and John made a gesture as if he would put it in the stove, but Anna caught his hand, saying imploringly:  “Please humor me this once.  She may see it, and I’m so interested.”

Anna was always humored, and the doctor placed in his memorandum book the note, then turning to Alice he addressed her in so low a tone that Anna readily took the hint and left them together.  Dr. Richards was not intending to be gone long, he said, though the time would seem a little eternity, so much was his heart now bound up in Snowdon.

Afraid lest he might say something more of the same nature, Alice hastened to ask if he had seen her mother, and what he thought of her.

“I stepped in for a moment while you were in the library,” he replied.  “She seemed to have a high fever, and I fancied it increased while I stood by her.  I am sorry to leave while she is so sick, but remember that if anything happens you will be dearer to me than ever,” and the doctor pressed the little hand which he took in his to say good-by, for now he must really go.

As the day and night wore on Mrs. Johnson grew worse so rapidly, that at her request a telegram was forwarded to Mr. Liston, who had charge of her moneyed affairs, and who came at once, for the kind old man was deeply interested in the widow and her lovely daughter.  As Mrs. Johnson, could bear it, they talked alone together until he perfectly understood what her wishes were with regard to Alice, and how to deal with Dr. Richards, whom he had not yet seen.  Then promising to return again in case the worst should happen, he took his leave, while Mrs. Johnson, now that a weight was lifted from her mind, seemed to rally, and the physician pronounced her better.  But with that strange foreknowledge, as it were, which sometimes comes to people whose days are nearly numbered, she felt that she would die, and that in mercy this interval of rest and freedom from pain was granted her, in which she might talk with Alice concerning the arrangements for the future.

“Alice, darling,” she said, when they were alone, “come sit by me here on the bed and listen to what I say.”

Alice obeyed, and taking her mother’s hot hands in hers she waited for what was to come.

“You have learned to trust God in prosperity, and He will be a thousandfold nearer to you in adversity.  You’ll miss me, I know, and be very lonely without me, but you are young, and life has many charms for you, besides God will never forget or forsake His covenant children.”

Gradually as she talked the wild sobbing ceased, and when the white face lifted itself from its hiding place there was a look upon it as if the needed strength had been sought and to some extent imparted.