Presently Lucy joined them in the garden.
"Your mother is better, and would like to see you, little missy," said she to Coral; "and you too, Miss Beryl, she would like to see," she added, looking at Beryl.
Beryl was pleased to hear this, for she had a great wish to see little Coral's mother.
They hastened back to the house, and the children would have gone at once to the sick-room, had Lucy not checked them, and insisted on the necessity of their removing their outdoor clothes and changing their shoes before they saw the invalid.
As they went downstairs together, hand in hand, Beryl was conscious of a strange tremor. She had never before seen any one who was very, very ill, and she was half afraid lest there should be anything dreadful in the sight. She stood still for a few moments at the door of the room, and almost wished that she could go back.
But Coral opened the door, and led her in, and as they drew near the bed, Beryl's fear vanished, for the white, worn face she saw upon the pillow had once been beautiful, and was still pleasant to see, and the large, dark eyes, so like Coral's save for the deep sorrow they mirrored forth, looked upon her with a tender motherly glance.
"You are my little Coral's friend," she murmured. "I have heard how good you are to her. I thank you, my dear child, a thousand times."
Beryl could not speak; for once her usual self-possession failed her. Tears came into her eyes at the sight of that pale, sad face; she looked down, and said nothing.
"Mamma," cried Coral, pressing forward with her flowers, "look what lovely violets we have picked for you! Just smell how sweet they are! They all grew in the garden, every one of them."
"My little Coral, my poor, poor Coral!" said her mother, clasping her close, and looking on her with the glance of hungering love. "You have no father to care for you now, and I too must soon leave you. Oh, how can I? But I must, I must."