“I thought you looked at me as if you wanted to say something.” “There is something I must say to you before I die.”
“Before you die, mother!” echoed Frank, in a startled voice.
“Yes. Frank, I am beginning to think that this is my last sickness.”
“But, mother, you have been so before, and got up again.”
“There must always be a last time, Frank; and my strength is too far reduced to rally again, I fear.”
“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, mother,” said Frank, deeply moved.
“You will miss me, then, Frank?” said Mrs. Fowler.
“Shall I not? Grace and I will be alone in the world.”
“Alone in the world!” repeated the sick woman, sorrowfully, “with little help to hope for from man, for I shall leave you nothing. Poor children!”
“That isn’t what I think of,” said Frank, hastily.