making yourself so very anxious. Let us hope it is not
so bad as that. You are very ill, but not _so_ ill--I suppose."

Here the Rector was interrupted by a groan from the patient, and by a
troubled, disapproving, disappointed look from Lucy Wodehouse. This
brought him to a sudden standstill. He gazed for a moment helplessly at
the poor woman in the bed. If he had known anything in the world which
would have given her consolation, he was ready to have made any exertion
for it; but he knew nothing to say--no medicine for a mind diseased was
in his repositories. He was deeply distressed to see the disappointment
which followed his words, but his distress only made him more silent,
more helpless, more inefficient than before.

After an interval which was disturbed only by the groans of the patient
and the uneasy fidgeting of good Miss Wodehouse in her corner, the Rector
again broke silence. The sick woman had turned to the wall, and closed
her eyes in dismay and disappointment--evidently she had ceased to
expect anything from him.

"If there is anything I can do," said poor Mr Proctor, "I am afraid I
have spoken hastily. I meant to try to calm her mind a little; if I can
be of any use?"

"Ah, maybe I'm hasty," said the dying woman, turning round again with a
sudden effort--"but, oh, to speak to me of having time when I've one
foot in the grave already!"

"Not so bad as that--not so bad as that," said the Rector, soothingly.

"But I tell you it is as bad as that," she cried, with the brief blaze
of anger common to great weakness. "I'm not a child to be persuaded
different from what I know. If you'd tell me--if you'd say a prayer--ah,
Miss Lucy, it's coming on again."

In a moment Lucy had raised the poor creature in her arms, and in default
of the pillows which were not at hand, had risen herself into their
place, and supported the gasping woman against her own breast. It was a
paroxysm dreadful to behold, in which every labouring breath seemed the
last. The Rector sat like one struck dumb, looking on at that mortal
struggle. Miss Wodehouse approached nervously from behind, and went up
to the bedside, faltering forth questions as to what she could do. Lucy
only waved her hand, as her own light figure swayed and changed, always
seeking the easiest attitude for the sufferer. As the elder sister drew
back, the Rector and she glanced at each other with wistful mutual looks
of sympathy. Both were equally well-disposed, e