The intervals when the poor heartbroken woman had to stop to regain her breath, were growing more frequent.

“But, dearest,” she continued, and in her earnestness she raised herself partly up, “the worst of all has been that I have tried to carry the burden alone.  Your father told me that I must be brave for your sake, and that Jesus would help me; but I would not let Him.

“Last night and today I have been praying much, and now, thank God, it is all right!”

Rosa wondered at the expression of joy flooding her mother’s face, immediately followed by one of deepest grief.

“Bend closer, darling, my voice is becoming so weak that you cannot hear!  I am so sorry that I did not do as your father said, and have never taught you of Jesus, and now it is—­too late!—­I’m glad—­the lady—­told you.—­Yes,—­He paid—­the fare!—­I’m—­going—­to move—­now—­to that—­beautiful land!”

“Oh, mother,” sobbed Rosa, beginning to realize a little of the import of her words, “please, oh, please don’t leave me!  What could I ever do without you?  Nobody loves me but you and grandpa, and I just can’t stand it, if you go away.”

With her last atom of strength, the dying mother kissed her child, whispering just so that Rosa could hear: 

“Find someone—­to tell you—­the way,—­and come—­to that—­beautiful—­land—­where you will—­find Jesus—­and mother!”

So calmly did she fall back upon her pillow that Rosa, though awe-struck, thought she was sleeping.  Still clasping the thin hand, she noticed the chill.  Cautiously, lest she might disturb the sleeper, she slipped off her little flannel skirt, the last article made by her mother, and wrapped the cold hands within its folds.  The scant coverings she also tucked up more closely and put their last bit of coal upon the fire.

Till midnight she sat by the bed, wondering why mother was so very still, and why she was growing so cold.  At last, being able to endure the suspense no longer, stepping across the hall, she called for Mrs. Gray.

“Land sakes, child, why ain’t you in bed this time of night?”

“Please, Mis’ Gray, I’d like to borrow a comfort, ’cause mother’s so awful cold, and I can’t get her warm.”

“Well, when a body’s as accommodatin’ as I am, I ’spose they must expect to be bothered any time of day or night, too.  I’ll git up and see what your ma wants.  Glad of one thing, she ain’t kept me awake by her coughin’ tonight, anyway; but it comes from me fixin’ her a decent supper, I reckon.”

Mrs. Gray stepped to the door of Mrs. Browning’s room, but something impelled her to stop.  A fear seized her, while involuntarily she clutched Rosa’s trembling hand.

There was no light in the room, save that which shone from across the hall, the faint rays falling directly over the motionless form upon the bed.

“Mis’ Browning,” she cautiously asked, “do you want anything?”