From the time Mrs. Gaston finished the garment upon which she had been working, she had not even unrolled the other roundabout, and it was now nine o’clock at night.  A sense of her destitute condition, and of the pressing necessity there was for her to let every minute leave behind some visible impression, made her, after Henry and Emma were in bed, leave the side of her sick child, though with painful reluctance, and resume her toil.  But, ever and anon, as Ella moaned, or tossed restlessly upon her pillow, would the mother lay by her work, and go and stand beside her in silent anguish of spirit, or inquire where she suffered pain, or what she could do to relieve her.

Thus passed the hours until twelve, one, and two o’clock, the mother feeling that her child was too sick for her to seek repose, and yet, as she could do nothing to relieve her sufferings, she could not sit idly by and look upon her.  For fifteen or twenty minutes at a time she would ply her needle, and then get up and bend over the bed for a minute or two.  A thought of duty would again call her back to her position by the work-table, where she would again devote herself to her task, in spite of an aching head, and a reluctant, over-wearied body.  Thus she continued until near daylight, when there was an apparent subsidence of Ella’s most painful symptoms.  The child ceased to moan and throw herself about, and finally sunk into slumber.  In some relief of mind, Mrs. Gaston laid down beside her upon the bed, and, in a little while was fast asleep.  When she awoke, the sun had been up some time, and was shining brightly into the room.  Quickly rising, her first glance was toward her sick child.  She could scarcely suppress a cry of agony, as she perceived that her face and neck had swollen so as to appear puffed up, while her skin was covered with livid spots.  An examination of the chest and stomach showed that these spots were extending themselves over her whole body.  Besides these signs of danger, the breathing of the child was more like gasping, as she lay with her mouth half opened.

The mother laid her hand upon her arm, and spoke to her.  But she did not seem to hear the voice.

“Ella, dear! how do you feel this morning?” repeated Mrs. Gaston in louder and more earnest tones.

But the child heeded her not.  She was already past consciousness!  At an early hour Doctor R—­came in.  The moment he looked at his patient his countenance fell.  Still, he proceeded to examine her carefully.  But every symptom was alarming, and indicated a speedy fatal termination, this was especially the case with the upper part of the throat, which was black.  Nothing deeper could be seen, as the tonsils were so swollen as to threaten suffocation.

“Is there any hope, doctor?” asked Mrs. Gaston, eagerly, laying her hand upon his arm as he turned from the bed.

“There is always hope where there is life, madam,” he replied, abstractedly; and then in a thoughtful mood took two or three turns across the narrow apartment.