"O Milly, Milly!" she cried, "was there ever anything so terrible? It will kill mother; she can never stand it in her weak state."
"We must manage to keep it from her," the doctor said.
"How can we? She will see it in our faces," sobbed Zillah.
"We must control our features; we must banish every expression of grief from them and from our words and voices when in her presence. Her life may depend upon it, for she is very feeble just now."
"We will all try," Wallace said, with a heavy sigh. "Let none of us venture into her presence until we are sure of ourselves."
"It will be very difficult, but I believe God will give us strength," said Mildred, "if we ask it in faith. Oh, it is an awful, awful thing!" she cried, a fierce paroxysm of grief sweeping over her; then, as she grew calmer, "but we have strong consolation in the certain knowledge that they were of those who trust in the imputed righteousness of Christ; that they had made their peace with God and were ready for the summons home."
"Yes," said Wallace, "we sorrow not as those without hope; and dear mother, who lives so near the Master, and realizes so fully the blessedness of those who have gone to be forever with Him, will, I doubt not, be able to bear up under this new trial, terrible as it is, when she has regained her usual health."
"No doubt of it," the doctor said.
"But oh, it is so terrible, so terrible!" sobbed Zillah; "far worse than any of the many trials that have come to us in the last two or three years."
"Does father know?" asked Mildred. "Has he heard?"