s when the season came round
had she gathered one of those buds and carried it home, and it was more
to her than any summer flower. The bliss of life passed over into
contentment with death, and her delight was so great that she could
happily have lain down amid the hum of the insects to die on the grass.

When they came back to the farm Mr. Bellamy observed to his wife that he
had not seen Catharine looking better or in better spirits for months.
Mrs. Bellamy said nothing, but on the following morning Catharine was
certainly not so well. It was intended that she should go home that day,
but it was wet, and a message was sent to Eastthorpe to explain why she
did not come. The next day she was worse, and Mrs. Bellamy went to
Eastthorpe and counselled Mr. and Mrs. Furze to come to the Farm, and
bring Dr. Turnbull with them. They all three came at once, and found
Catharine in bed. She was feverish, and during the night had been
slightly delirious. The doctor examined her carefully, and after the
examination was over she turned to him and said--

"I want to hear the truth; I can bear it. Am I to die?"

"I know you can bear it. No man could be certain; but I believe the end
is near."

"How much time have I?"

He sat down by the bedside. "Perhaps a day, perhaps a week. Is there
anybody you wish to see?"

"I should like to see Mr. Cardew."

"Mr. Cardew!" said Dr. Turnbull to himself; "I fancied she would not care
to have a clergyman with her; I thought she was a little beyond that kind
of thing, but when people are about to die even the strongest are a
little weak."

"She always liked Mr. Cardew's preaching," said Mrs. Furze, sobbing, "but
I wish she had asked for her own rector. It isn't as if Mr. Cardew were
her personal friend."

It was Saturday evening when the message was dispatched to Abchurch, but
Mr. Cardew was fortunately able to secure a substitute for the morrow;
Sunday morning came. Mrs. Furze, who had been sitting up all night, drew
down the blinds at dawn, but Catharine asked, not only that they might be
drawn up again, but that her bed might be shifted a little so that she
might look out across the meadow and towards the bridge. "The view that
way is so lovely," said she. It was again a triumphal spring day, and
light and warmth streamed into the sick chamber.

Presently her mother went to take a little rest, and Mr. Cardew was
announced almost immediately afterwards. He came upstairs,