“He is not expected to live.”

“Poor woman!  How distressed she must be?  I wonder what her circumstances are just at this time.  She seemed very poor when she worked for me.”

“And she is very poor still, I doubt not.  She has herself been sick, and during the time it is more than probable, that Edward’s wages were all her income.  I am afraid she has suffered, and that she has not, now, the means of procuring for her sick boy things necessary for his comfort.  Could you not go around there this afternoon, and see how they are?”

I shook my head instantly, at this proposition, for sympathy for others was not yet strong enough to expel my selfish despondency of mind.

“Then I must step around,” replied my husband, “before I go back to the store, although we are very busy today, and I am much wanted there.  It would not be right to neglect the lad and his mother under present circumstances.”

I felt rebuked at these words; and, with a forced effort, said—­

“I will go.”

“It will be much better for you to see them than for me,” returned my husband, “for you can understand their wants better, and minister to them more effectually.  If they need any comforts, I would like you to see them supplied.”

It still cost me an effort to get ready; but as I had promised that I would do as my husband wished, the effort. had to be made.  By the time I was prepared to go out, I felt something better.  The exertion I was required to make, tended to disperse slightly the clouds that hung over me, and, as they began gradually to move, my thoughts turned, with an awakening interest, toward the object of my husband’s solicitude.

All was silent within the humble abode to which my errand led me.  I knocked lightly, and in a few moments the mother of Edward opened the door.  She looked pale and anxious.

“How is your son, Mrs. Ellis?” I inquired, as I stepped in.

“He is very low, ma’am,” she replied.

“Not dangerous, I hope?”

“The fever has left him, but he is as weak as an infant.  All his strength is gone.”

“But proper nourishment will restore him, if the disease is broken.”

“So the doctor says.  But I’m afraid it is too late.  He seems to be sinking every hour.  Will you walk up and see him, ma’am?”

I followed Mrs. Ellis up stairs, and into the chamber where the sick boy lay.  I was not surprised at the fear she had expressed, when I saw Edward’s pale, sunken face, and hollow, almost expressionless eyes.  He scarcely noticed my entrance.

“Poor boy!” sighed his mother.  “He has had a very sick spell.”  My liveliest interest was at once awakened.

“He has been sick indeed!” I replied, as I laid my hand upon his white forehead.  I found that his skin was, cold and damp.  The fever had nearly burned out the vital energies of his system.  “Do you give him much nourishment?”