"Then it is time he should be forewarned, poor boy! I do not need Dr. Jeremy to tell me that I am dying."
"Did he tell you so?" asked Gertrude, as she went to her desk, and began to arrange her writing materials.
"No, Gerty! he was too prudent for that; but I told him and he did not contradict me. You have known it some time, have you not?" inquired she, gazing earnestly in the face of Gertrude.
"Some weeks," replied Gertrude, as she spoke imprinting a kiss upon the pale brow of the sufferer.
"Why did you not tell me?"
"Why should I, dear auntie?" said Gertrude. "I knew the Lord could never call you at a time when your lamp would not be trimmed and burning."
"Feebly, it burns feebly!" said she.
"Whose, then, is bright," said Gertrude, "if yours be dim! Have you not, for years past, been a living lesson of piety? Unless it be Emily, auntie, I know of no one who seems so fit for heaven."
"Oh, no, Gerty! I am a sinful creature, full of weakness; much as I long to meet my Saviour, my earthly heart pines with the vain desire for one more sight of my boy, and all my dreams of heaven are mingled with the aching regret that the one blessing I most craved on earth has been denied me."
"Oh, auntie!" exclaimed Gertrude, "we are all human! Until the mortal puts on immortality, how can you cease to think of Willie, and long for his presence in this trying hour! It cannot be a sin—that which is so natural!"