"My dear," he said kindly, "supposing your rest which you so crave should end in your not waking again—end in death?"
She moved slightly without opening her eyes. "Let me rest," she entreated. "I should have been dead now but for you; so what does it matter when it is?"
"Not if you are content to go to the end of the journey," said the doctor in a tone intended to rouse her. "Where are you going, do you think?"
"I can't think; I only know I meant to take my baby with me, and we should have been together."
"I do not think you would," said the doctor; "but you may be for ever if you like."
"What?" she said.
"Go to be for ever with your child, if both of you look to Jesus."
The woman's dulled senses here failed her, and she fell into a heavy sleep which was almost stupor.
The nurse's and doctor's eyes met.
"We must let her sleep for an hour, and then I shall try to awaken her. How awful it is to see a soul dying without God!"