"He is your uncle, Miss Stella."
"My uncle! Oh!"
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and at eight o'clock as usual Stella went to bed. She lay awake thinking of her mother, wondering if she would get better, and remembering how she had told her she must be a good girl and obey her uncle.
"I believe she must be going to die," thought Stella, a feeling of awe creeping over her, and she was quite relieved when she heard footsteps pause outside her bedroom door.
"Who is there?" she called.
It was Sarah, the plain-faced girl of eighteen who did the sewing for the family. She came into the room bearing a lighted candle in her hand.
Stella jumped up in bed and cried, "Oh, Sarah, do stay with me for a little while, do! I feel so lonely and frightened."
"Poor little dear!" said the kind-hearted maid, as she set the candle on the dressing-table and sat down on the edge of the bed. "But don't be lonely, Miss Stella, you mustn't be ever that, you know."
"Oh, Sarah! how can I help it? I know what you're going to say—that the Lord Jesus is here; but it's so difficult, so very difficult to believe!"
"It's true, nevertheless, darling, whether you believe it or no!"