"Oh, mamma! What do you mean! You must not go away and leave me. I cannot let you go!" cried Coral, in great distress. "Oh, mamma! You will not go; say you will not leave me."
"Alas, my child! I cannot help it," said her mother, in agitated tones. "The doctor has told me he cannot save me. I am dying, I feel it. And oh, I do not want to die yet! Sad and lonely as my life is, I would like to live a little longer for your sake, my sweet child. Besides, death is so dark and terrible, I am afraid of it."
Here Lucy interposed, and drew the children away. "You must not distress yourself so, madam. You must not, indeed; you will make yourself worse," she said.
As Beryl kissed Coral, and tried to soothe her grief, she felt as if she too must mourn a mother; for with the sight of that pale, loving face, there had dawned on her mind a sudden revelation of all that she had lost in losing her mother.
Presently Mrs. Despard asked to speak with Beryl again, and Beryl went back to the bedside.
"What is your name, dear?" asked the invalid, looking with admiration at the tall, strong girl.
"Beryl," she answered.
"Beryl," repeated Mrs. Despard, "a pretty name. Coral and Beryl, how well they go together! How old are you, Beryl?"
"Ten," answered Beryl; "but I shall be eleven in June."
"Not eleven yet, and so tall and strong," said Mrs. Despard, in surprise. "Why, you are scarcely two years older than my Coralie. And you too have lost your mother, they tell me, my dear?"