le surprised at her
appearance at such an hour and in such inclement weather, and so
apparently unattended. Poor Phoebe, worn to a shadow, was sitting
opposite the fire, in a little wooden armchair, and propped up by a
pillow. She trembled, and her lips moved on seeing Miss Aubrey, who,
sitting down on a stool beside her, after laying aside her snow-whitened
shawl and bonnet, spoke to her in the most gentle and soothing strain
imaginable. What a contrast in their two figures! 'T would have been no
violent stretch of imagination to say, that Catherine Aubrey at that
moment looked like a ministering angel sent to comfort the wretched
sufferer in her extremity. Phoebe's father and mother stood on each
side of the little fireplace, gazing with tearful eyes upon their only
child, soon about to depart from them forever. The poor girl was indeed
a touching object. She had been very pretty, but now her face was white
and wofully emaciated--the dread impress of consumption was upon it. Her
wasted fingers were clasped together on her lap, holding between them a
little handkerchief, with which, evidently with great effort, she
occasionally wiped the dampness from her face.

"You're very good, ma'am," she whispered, "to come to see me, and so
late. They say it's a sad cold night."

"I heard, Phoebe, that you were not so well, and I thought I would
just step along with Margaret, who has brought you some more jelly. Did
you like the last!"

"Y-e-s, ma'am," she replied hesitatingly; "but it's _very_ hard for me
to swallow anything now, my throat feels so sore." Here her mother shook
her head and looked aside; for the doctor had only that morning
explained to her the nature of the distressing symptom to which her
daughter was alluding--as evidencing the very last stage of her fatal
disorder.

"I'm very sorry to hear you say so, Phoebe," replied Miss Aubrey. "Do
you think there's anything else that Mrs. Jackson could make for you?"

"No, ma'am, thank you; I feel it's no use trying to swallow anything
more," said poor Phoebe, faintly.

"While there's life," whispered Miss Aubrey, in a subdued, hesitating
tone, "there's hope--_they say_." Phoebe shook her head mournfully.

"Don't stop long, dear lady--it's getting very late for you to be out
alone. Father will go"----

"Never mind me, Phoebe--I can take care of myself. I hope you mind
what good Dr. Tatham says to you? You know this sickness is from God,
Phoebe. He knows what is