"How are we to let her know that it is slowly fading away?" said the woman to the doctor.
"We will not let her know until the last moment; it would do her no good, and be only a setback for her," he responded.
Miss Fernly pitied the young mother from the very depths of her heart. It made this spinster more than ever enraged at men. She had tried to gain the girl's confidence. But it had all been in vain. Ida would lie for hours, looking out of the window at the fleecy clouds, muttering piteously:
"It must have taken place by this time! Oh! I am too late, too late!"
At last Miss Fernly's curiosity got the better of her.
"Will you tell me what you mean by those words, my dear?" she asked, one day. "Perhaps I can help you in some way."
"No," returned Ida May, wearily. "It would be useless, useless."
Miss Fernly took the little white hand in her own and pressed it gently.
"Do not say that, my dear, and in that tone; it is not right. Heaven is always kind enough to send a friend to those who are in need of help."