Mrs. Renford sank back exhausted upon the pillow, but presently she continued the conversation.
"I have made a great many mistakes in my life," she confessed sadly. "I ought not to have married your father without his parents' consent, but I was young and thoughtless, and I did not understand they would so utterly disapprove of me as they did. I was not brought up as they considered their son's wife should have been. Oh, Felicia, if better days come to you, don't let them make you forget the past, and—and—if anyone endeavours to teach you to be ashamed of your mother, remember that, though she was a 'nobody' and not very wise, she loved you and tried to teach you to be a good girl, and—she did the best she could. God doesn't ask more than that, and you know His judgment is not the world's, but infinitely loving and merciful."
"Oh, mother, do you think I could ever be ashamed of you?" Felicia questioned in a heart-broken voice. "Oh, why do you talk to me like this? Perhaps, after all, the doctor is mistaken, and you will recover."
"It may be so, of course; I have heard that doctors cannot always tell how it will be when a patient is suffering from heart disease. But if he is right, you will do as I wish, will you not?"
Felicia nodded silently, and her mother was satisfied.
"I have given Mrs. M'Cosh instructions how to act. I feel she is one to be trusted, and she has proved herself kind and sympathetic—a true friend in need." Mrs. Renford paused, and her eyes wandered to the flowers on the table—the room was full of their fragrance. "How beautiful those lilies are!" she exclaimed, with a ring of pleasure in her frail voice; "God bless the young lady who gave them to you, whoever she is. They have come like a message from God."
For several days the lilies bloomed in the pickle jar, whilst the sick woman grew weaker hour by hour. Felicia was obliged to cease working, for her mother could not endure the sound of the sewing machine; and, instead, she spent her time ministering to the dear invalid who followed her eve loving, wistful eyes. Mrs. M'Cosh came and went; the doctor was very kind and attentive, and the district nurse called to see what she could do; but Mrs. Renford was passing beyond human assistance. One morning found her lying white and lifeless with a smile of ineffable content upon her lips, and Mrs. M'Cosh—her plain face swelled and purple with weeping—laid the pure, white lilies on her breast, and then led Felicia—stunned with grief at the loss she had sustained—unresistingly from the room.
[CHAPTER IV]
Desolation
"WHAT a deluge!" exclaimed Mrs. M'Cosh, coming to the window where Felicia stood gazing out into the street. She laid her large hand with a kindly pressure on the little girl's shoulder as she spoke. "I'm afraid master will get very wet coming home from work. One thing I'm glad of, and that is, that it did not rain like this in the afternoon."