"Who is it, lady?" he asked. "His honour's wife, or the baby?"
"His wife. You're a kind-hearted lad, and won't waste a moment, will you?"
"No, lady; trust me."
He was not above taking the sixpence she offered him, and he ran out of the house like a shot.
Within the hour he was back with the doctor, whose looks were grave as he examined his patient.
"There is hope, doctor?" said Mrs. Farebrother's sister. "Tell me there is hope!"
He shook his head, and gently told her she must prepare for the worst.
"She is past prescribing for," he said. "I can do nothing for her. She has been for some time in a decline."
The sentence being passed, she had no room in her heart for any other feeling than pity for her dying sister. In the sunrise, when the sweet air was infusing strength into fresh young life, the end came. Mrs. Farebrother whispered to her sister that she wished to speak to her husband alone. Thoroughly awed, he sat by her side. She made no reference to the past; she uttered no reproaches. She spoke only of their child, and begged him to be good to her. He promised all that she asked of him.
"You will get some good woman into the house to take care of her?" she said.