"No—lung fever. He died night before last, after forty-eight hours' illness."
"Shocking!"
"Ellen! you are white as a sheet!" was Mrs. Morris' greeting. "My dear child—are you sick?"
"No ma'am—only cold—oh! so cold!"
"Come to the fire."
"I think I will lie down awhile—I am chilled to the heart!"
The servant, who carried her breakfast, reported her asleep, and the careful mother would not let them waken her. Later in the day, she took a cup of hot coffee up to her. She was motionless; her head covered.
"My daughter!" said Mrs. Morris, softly, drawing down the coverlet.
She looked at her, but did not speak.
"How do you feel now?"