not far distant.

The nest day Doctor Burdett called, and his grave manner and apparent
disinclination to encourage any hope, confirmed the hopeless impression
they already entertained.

Aunt Ada came from Sudbury at Emily's request; she knew her presence would
give pleasure to Clarence, she accordingly wrote her to come, and she and
Emily nursed by turns the failing sufferer.

Esther and her husband, Mrs. Ellis and Caddy, and even Kinch, were
unremitting in their attentions, and did all in their power to amuse and
comfort him. Day by day he faded perceptibly, grew more and more feeble,
until at last Doctor Burdett began to number days instead of weeks as his
term of life. Clarence anticipated death with calmness--did not repine or
murmur. Father Banks was often with him cheering him with hopes of a
happier future beyond the grave.

One day he sent for his sister and desired her to write a letter for him.
"Em," said he, "I am failing fast; these fiery spots on my cheek, this
scorching in my palms, these hard-drawn, difficult breaths, warn me that
the time is very near. Don't weep, Em!" continued he, kissing her--"there,
don't weep--I shall be better off--happier--I am sure! Don't weep now--I
want you to write to little Birdie for me. I have tried, but my hand
trembles so that I cannot write legibly--I gave it up. Sit down beside me
here, and write; here is the pen." Emily dried her eyes, and mechanically
sat down to write as he desired. Motioning to him that she was ready, he
dictated--

"My Dear Little Birdie,--I once resolved never to write to you again, and
partially promised your father that I would not; then I did not dream that
I should be so soon compelled to break my resolution. Little Birdie, I am
dying! My physician informs me that I have but a few more days to live. I
have been trying to break away from earth's affairs and fix my thoughts on
other and better things. I have given up all but you, and feel that I
cannot relinquish you until I see you once again. Do not refuse me, little
Birdie! Show this to your father--he must consent to a request made by one
on the brink of the grave."

"There, that will do; let me read it over," said he, extending his hand for
the note. "Yes, I will sign it now--then do you add our address. Send it
now, Emily--send it in time for to-night's mail."

"Clary, do you think she will come?" inquired his sister.

"Yes," replied he, confidently; "I am sure she will if the no