nfess to herself that the effort to keep her children around her
must prove unavailing. But how could she part with her boy? How
could she see him put out among strangers? How could she bear to let
him go away from her side, and be henceforth treated as a servant,
and be compelled to perform labor above his years? The very thought
made her sick.

Her frugal meal was soon finished, and then the children were put to
bed. After laying away their clothes, and setting back the table
from which their supper had been eaten, Mrs. Gaston seated herself
by the already nearly half burned penny candle, whose dim light
scarcely enabled her failing eyesight to discern the edges of the
dark cloth upon which she was working, and composed herself to her
task. Hour after hour she toiled on, weary and aching in every
limb. But she remitted not her labors until long after midnight,
and then not until her last candle had burned away to the socket
in which it rested. Then she put aside her work with a sigh, as
she reflected upon the slow progress she had made, and, disrobing
herself, laid her over-wearied body beside that of her sick child.
Ella was asleep; but her breathing was hard, and her mother
perceived, upon laying her hand upon her face, that her fever had
greatly increased. But she knew no means of alleviation, and
therefore did not attempt any. In a little while, nature claimed for
her a respite. Sleep locked her senses in forgetfulness.

CHAPTER III.

DEATH OF MRS. GASTON'S CHILD.--A MOTHER'S ANGUISH.

ON the next morning, at the earliest dawn, Mrs. Gaston arose. She
found Ella's fever still very high. The child was restless, and
moaned a good deal in her sleep.

"Poor little thing!" murmured the mother, as she bent over her for a
moment, and then turned away, and commenced kindling a fire upon the
hearth. Fortunately, for her, she had saved enough from her earnings
during the summer to buy half a cord of wood; but this was gradually
melting away, and she was painfully conscious that, by the time the
long and severe winter had fairly set in, her stock of fuel would be
exhausted; and at the prices which she was receiving for her work,
she felt that it would be impossible to buy more. After making the
fire, she took her work, and drew near the window, through which the
cold faint rays of the morning were stealing. By holding the work
close to the light, she could see to set her needle, and in this way
she commenced he