“I’ll fix you to-morrow night!  There’ll be no more of this.  They needn’t think I’m going to worry out my life for their cross-grained brat.”

She stopped.  For the babe had suddenly ceased crying.  Lifting it up, quickly, she perceived, by the light of the lamp, that its face was very white, and its lips blue.  In alarm, she picked it up and sprang from the bed.  A little water thrown into its face, soon revived it.  But the child did not cry again, and soon fell away into sleep.  For a long time Jane sat partly up in bed, leaning over on her arm, and looking into little Henry’s face.  He breathed freely, and seemed to be as well as ever.  She did not wake until morning.  When she did, she found the mother bending over her, and gazing earnestly down into the face of her sleeping babe.  The incident that had occurred in the night glanced through her mind, and caused her to rise up and look anxiously at the child.  Its sweet, placid face, at once reassured her.

“He slept better last night,” remarked Mrs. Campbell.

“O, yes.  He didn’t cry any at all, hardly.”

“Heaven bless him!” murmured the mother, bending over and kissing him softly.

On the next morning, when she awoke, Mrs. Campbell felt a strange uneasiness about her child.  Without waiting to dress herself, she went softly over to the room where Jane slept.  It was only a little after day-light.  She found both the child and nurse asleep.  There was something in the atmosphere of the room that oppressed her lungs, and something peculiar in its odor.  Without disturbing Jane, she stood for several minutes looking into the face of Henry.  Something about it troubled her.  It was not so calm as usual, nor had his skin that white transparency so peculiar to a babe.

“Jane,” she at length said, laying her hand upon the nurse.

Jane roused up.

“How did Henry get along last night, Jane?”

“Very well, indeed, ma’am; he did not cry at all.”

“Do you think he looks well?”

Jane turned her eyes to the face of the child, and regarded it for some time.

“O, yes, ma’am, he looks very well; he has been sleeping sound all night.”

Thus assured, Mrs. Campbell regarded Henry for a few minutes longer, and then left the room.  But her heart was not at ease.  There was a weight upon it, and it labored in its office heavily.

“Still asleep,” she said, about an hour after, coming into Jane’s room.  “It is not usual for him to sleep so long in the morning.”

Jane turned away from the penetrating glance of the mother, and remarked, indifferently: 

“He has been worried out for the last two nights.  That is the reason, I suppose.”

Mrs. Campbell said no more, but lifted the child in her arms, and carried it to her own chamber.  There she endeavored to awaken it, but, to her alarm, she found that it still slept heavily in spite of all her efforts.