"But it is too late," she sighed, in a troubled whisper--"it is too late; I shall be gone. If he had but come a day earlier!"
She closed her eyes again, and remained silent. The next words she uttered, some time afterwards, were to Miss Carr.
"Mary--you--that which Louise was saying today----"
"Yes. I understand."
"If mamma wishes it--do not prevent it. I--I--should like him to see me--the wreck I am. And then he could come--you would bring him."
Rose assented eagerly, before Mary Carr could speak.
"And otherwise--if he had not been here--I have been reflecting--that it would answer no end to oppose my mother--what can it matter to me, then? If I--had a child--and she died--it is possible I might wish the same. Don't interfere. But--you will bring him?"
"Dearest Adeline, YES," cried Rose, "if he is to be found. I promise it to you solemnly."
"And now--dear friends of my girlhood, Rose! Mary!" she breathed, holding out her hands, "I have but to say farewell. All things are growing dim around me. You know not how grateful I have been for your care of me. You will think of me sometimes in after-life."
The pause that ensued was only broken by Rose's sobs. Mary Carr's aching grief was silent.