"Not very long, Natty dear," her mother answered, kissing her, "only two weeks, and you will be better soon now, won't she, doctor?"
But Dr. Leach did not reply. How could he deceive that dying girl? She looked into his grave, sad face, and a solemn shadow fell on her own, a shadow of the dark truth.
"Oh, doctor!" she cried out, "am I dying?"
He bent over her, and stroked away tenderly the full dark hair off her forehead.
"My poor child! my dear child! God knows I would save you if I could; but the power of life and death lies in higher hands. Has this world been such a pleasant place to you that you should wish to stay in it? Think of that better world, my poor little girl, that lies beyond the grave. It would be cruel in me to deceive you now."
She drew the hand he held out of his suddenly, and turned her face away from them. Mrs. Marsh broke out into strong sobbing, but the doctor sternly hushed her. But the dulled, dying ear caught the sound, and she turned to them again.
"How long have I to live?" she asked.
He could not tell an untruth with those earnest eyes fixed on his face, and his voice was husky as he replied:
"Not long! not long, my poor girl! But long enough to prepare for the world to which you are going."
"Will I die to-day?"