nd. But he has a fever of some kind. You
remember his mother very well?"

"Oh, yes. You know she worked for me. Edward is her only child, I
believe."

"Yes; and his loss to her will be almost everything."

"Is he dangerous?" I enquired, a feeling of interest beginning to
stir in my heart.

"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 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 strong enough to expel my selfish despondency of
mind.

"Then I must step around," replied my husband, "before I go back to
business, although I have a great deal to do to-day. It would not be
right to neglect this lad and his mother under present circumstances."

I felt rebuked at these words, and, with an 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 to
have you see them supplied."

It still cost me an effort to get ready, but as I had promised to 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 remove, my thoughts turned,
with an awakened interest, towards 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 enquired, 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, now that the disease is
broken."

"So the doctor says. But I'm afraid it's too late. He seems to be
sinking every hour. Will you walk up and see him?"