"My son, the disease is one the whole profession agree in pronouncing incurable, and to travel would be torture. No, be content to let me die at home, with you and this beloved daughter to smooth my dying pillow, our wee precious pet to wile away the pain with her pretty baby ways, and my own pastor to comfort me with God's truth and sweet thoughts of heaven." Elsie looked the question her trembling lips refused to utter. "I shall not probably leave you soon," said the old lady. "It is a slow thing, the doctor tells me, it will take some time to run its course." Elsie could scarce endure the anguish in her husband's face. Silently she placed herself by his side, her arm about his neck, and laid her cheek to his. He drew her yet closer, the other arm still embracing his mother. "Are you suffering much, dearest mother?" "Not more than He giveth me strength to bear; and His consolations are not small. "My dear children, I have tried to hide this from you lest it should mar your happiness. Do not let it do so; it is no cause of regret to me. I have lived my three-score years and ten, and if by reason of strength they should be four-score, yet would their strength be labor and sorrow. I am deeply thankful that our Father has decreed to spare me the infirmities of extreme old age, by calling me home to that New Jerusalem where sin and sorrow, pain and feebleness, are unknown." "But to see you suffer, mother!" groaned her son. "Think on the dear Hand that sends the pain--so infinitely less than what He bore for me; that it is but for a moment; and of the weight of glory it is to work for me. Try, my dear children, to be entirely submissive to His will." "We will, mother," they answered; "and to be cheerful for your sake." A shadow had fallen upon the brightness of the hitherto happy home--a shadow of a great, coming sorrow--and the present grief of knowing that the dear mother, though ever patient, cheerful, resigned, was enduring almost constant and often very severe pain. They watched over her with tenderest love and care, doing everything in their power to relieve, strengthen, comfort her; never giving way in her presence to the grief that often wrung their hearts. Dearly as Mr. Travilla and Elsie had loved each other before, this community of sorrow drew them still closer together; as did their love for, and joy and pride in, their beautiful child. The consolations of God were not small with any of our friends at Ion and the Oaks; yet was it a winter of trial to all. For some weeks after the above conversation, Mr. Dinsmore and Rose called every day, and showed themselves sincere sympathizers; but young Horace and little Rosebud were taken with scarlet fever in its worst form, and the parents being much with them, did not venture to Ion for fear of carrying the infection to wee Elsie.