"Rosa dear, my breath is growing very short, but I must tell you something. You are too young to know what it all means now, but try to remember, and sometime you will understand.
"Just ten years ago today I was married to your father, Harold Browning; and you are so like him, precious.
"I was left an orphan at the age of fourteen, and from that time till the day of marriage, made my living by clerking in a down-town store. Your father, too, was alone in the world, and how we loved each other!
"We rented a small furnished flat, which to me was a paradise. Your father was a bookkeeper on a comfortable salary, and for a time all went well. At the end of the second year you were born, and then our joy knew no bounds. Every evening while holding you in his arms, we would plan for the future, you being the center of everything. There was not a shadow over our lives, till one morning he was not able to go to work. In a few hours he became so very ill that in great alarm I summoned the doctor. Then followed weeks of suspense, the days being divided between hope and fear, till at last all thought of his recovery was given up. My anguish was too deep for tears. I went around as one stunned, not knowing at times what I was about. Your dear father tried to comfort me, pointing me to Jesus whom he loved intensely, but who I said was cruel to allow our little home nest thus ruthlessly to be broken up.
"What happened the last days of his life to me is a blank, for I myself was very ill. When I recovered and paid all the bills, there was not one cent left for us. I could hold the flat no longer, so moved here on Burton street, making our living, as you know, darling, by the day's work. It has been very hard, for often I have felt unable to be out of bed; but then I could not let my Rosa suffer."
The intervals when the poor heartbroken woman had to stop to regain her breath, were growing more frequent.
"But, dearest," she continued, and in her earnestness she raised herself partly up, "the worst of all has been that I have tried to carry the burden alone. Your father told me that I must be brave for your sake, and that Jesus would help me; but I would not let Him.
"Last night and today I have been praying much, and now, thank God, it is all right!"
Rosa wondered at the expression of joy flooding her mother's face, immediately followed by one of deepest grief.
"Bend closer, darling, my voice is becoming so weak that you cannot hear! I am so sorry that I did not do as your father said, and have never taught you of Jesus, and now it is—too late!—I'm glad—the lady—told you.—Yes,—He paid—the fare!—I'm—going—to move—now—to that—beautiful land!"