"My work is here."
Is mine here too? thought Diana, as she slowly went away into the other room. What is mine? To die by this fire that burns in me; or to freeze stiff in the cold that sometimes almost stops my heart's beating? She came up to the side of her baby's crib and stood there looking, dimly conscious of an inner voice that said her work was not death.
CHAPTER XXX.
SUNSHINE.
A few days later, the minister came home one evening with a message for his wife.
"Good old Mother Bartlett is going home, Diana, and she wants to see you."
"Home? Is she dying, do you mean?"
"She does not mean it. To her, it is entering into life."
"But what's the matter?"
"You know she had that bad cold. I think the treatment was worse than the disease; and under the effects of both, her strength seems to have given way. She is sinking quietly."