Mrs. Wade sat propped up in bed by pillows, for the nature of her disease rendered repose impossible; dreadful spasms--the forerunners of dissolution--at intervals convulsed her frame. Pale, but firm, the gentle Mary Hereford glided about her, now supporting the worn-out frame--now holding to her lips the cup meant for healing--now opening a door, or slightly raising a window, to facilitate the invalid’s labored breathing. The fire had burned low in the grate, and when the gray light of morning stole in through the half open shutter, and the invalid would have replenished it, Mrs. Wade’s low whispered, “I shall not need it, Mary,” gave expression to the fearful certainty which her own heart had silently throbbed out through the long watches of that agonized night. Not a murmur escaped the sufferer’s lips--there was no request for the presence of the absent sleeper, who had promised “to cherish through sickness and health;” no mention was made of the children, who had been trustingly placed in the hands of Him who doeth all things well, and who wearily slumbered on, unconscious that the brightness of their childhood’s sky was fading out forever. The thin arms were wound around the neck of the first-born, about whom such happy hopes had once so thickly clustered, and peacefully as an infant drops asleep. Susan Wade closed her eyes forever; so peacefully that the daughter knew not the moment in which the desolate word--“motherless”--was written over against her name. Motherless!--that in that little word should be compressed such weary weight of woe! It were sad to be written fatherless--but God and his ministering angels only know how dark this earth may be, when she who was never weary of us with all our frailties--she, to whom our very weaknesses clamored more loudly for love, lies careless of our tears. * * * * * “Henry!” said Mr. Wade to Mr. Hereford, “I had no idea, in fact--I didn’t think”--and the embarrassed man tried to rub open his still sleepy eyes--“I didn’t suppose, really, that Mrs. Wade would die yet; women are so notional, and that doctor seemed to be encouraging Mrs. Wade to be sick, as doctors always do--really I am quite taken by surprise, as one may say; I don’t know any thing about these things--I should like to have you do what is necessary. I suppose it will not be considered the thing for me to go to the store to-day,” and he looked for encouragement to do so in the face of his disgusted son-in-law. “I should think not, decidedly,” said Mr. Hereford, dryly. “Of course it would not be my wish,” said Mr. Wade, “when poor Susan lies dead; but one’s duty, you know, sometimes runs a different way from one’s inclination.” And _vice versâ_, thought Henry, but he merely remarked that he would take any message for him to his place of business.