“Moulsey,” said Mrs. Kingsward, “have we come then quite—to the end now?”
“Oh, ma’am! Oh, my dear lady!” Moulsey said.
“My husband—seems to think so. It is a little hard—to leave them all. Where is Bee?”
“I am here, mamma,” said a broken voice; and the mother’s hand was caught and held tight, as she liked it to be. “May Betty come too?”
“Yes, let Betty come. It is you I want, not Mr. Baldwin.”
“Mr. Baldwin is a good man, ma’am. He’ll be a comfort to them and to the Colonel.”
“Yes, I suppose so; he will be a comfort to—your father. But I don’t want anyone. I haven’t done very much harm——”
“No! oh, no, ma’am, none!” said Moulsey, while Betty, thrown on her knees by the bedside, tried to smother her sobs; and Bee, worn out and feeling as if she felt nothing, sat and held her mother’s hand.
“But, then,” she said, “I’ve never, never, done any good.”
“Oh! my dear lady, my dear lady! And all the poor people, and all the children.”