ympathetic neighbors,
realizing the pathos of the situation were attentive, they could not
supply the spiritual consolation which only those who truly love us
can give. There was a period when Vesta appeared to be rallying, and
both the physician and the nurse were hopeful; but afterward she
became weaker. It was said by Dr. Emory that her heart and kidneys had
become affected.

There came a time when the fact had to be faced that death was
imminent. The doctor's face was grave, the nurse was non-committal in
her opinion. Jennie hovered about, praying the only prayer that is
prayer--the fervent desire of her heart concentrated on the one
issue--that Vesta should get well. The child had come so close to
her during the last few years! She understood her mother. She was
beginning to realize clearly what her life had been. And Jennie,
through her, had grown to a broad understanding of responsibility. She
knew now what it meant to be a good mother and to have children. If
Lester had not objected to it, and she had been truly married, she
would have been glad to have others. Again, she had always felt that
she owed Vesta so much--at least a long and happy life to make up
to her for the ignominy of her birth and rearing. Jennie had been so
happy during the past few years to see Vesta growing into beautiful,
graceful, intelligent womanhood. And now she was dying. Dr. Emory
finally sent to Chicago for a physician friend of his, who came to
consider the case with him. He was an old man, grave, sympathetic,
understanding. He shook his head. "The treatment has been correct," he
said. "Her system does not appear to be strong enough to endure the
strain. Some physiques are more susceptible to this malady than
others." It was agreed that if within three days a change for the
better did not come the end was close at hand.

No one can conceive the strain to which Jennie's spirit was
subjected by this intelligence, for it was deemed best that she should
know. She hovered about white-faced--feeling intensely, but
scarcely thinking. She seemed to vibrate consciously with Vesta's
altering states. If there was the least improvement she felt it
physically. If there was a decline her barometric temperament
registered the fact.

There was a Mrs. Davis, a fine, motherly soul of fifty, stout and
sympathetic, who lived four doors from Jennie, and who understood
quite well how she was feeling. She had co-operated with the nurse and
doctor from