"But you don't think it the scarlet fever, doctor?" the mother said, in a low, alarmed voice. "Your child is very sick, madam; and, to tell you the truth, her symptoms resemble too closely those of the fever you have named," was the undisguised reply. "Surely, my cup is full and running over!" sobbed Mrs. Gaston, clasping her hands together, as this sudden announcement broke down, for a moment, her self-control, while the tears gushed from her eyes. Doctor R---- was a man of true feeling. He had attended, in two or three cases of illness, the children of Mrs. Gaston, and had observed that she was a woman who had become, from some cause, greatly reduced in circumstances. His sympathies were strongly awakened at seeing her emotion, and he said, in a kind but firm voice-- "A mother, the safety of whose child depends upon her calm and intelligent performance of duty, should never lose her self-control." "I know that, doctor," the mother answered, rallying herself with a strong effort. "But I was over-tried already, and your sudden confirmation of my worst fears completely broke me down." "In any event, however," the doctor replied, "you must not permit yourself to forget that your child is in the hands of Him who regards its good in a far higher sense than you can possibly. He never permits sickness of any kind without a good end." "I know that, doctor, but I have a mother's heart. I love my children, and the thought of losing them touches me to the quick." "And yet you know that, in passing from this to another state of existence, their condition must be bettered beyond comparison." "Oh yes. Beyond comparison!" replied the mother, half abstractedly, but with touching pathos. "And yet, doctor, I cannot spare them. They are everything to me." "Do not suffer yourself to indulge needless alarm. I will leave you medicine now, and call again to-morrow. If she should be decidedly worse, send for me towards evening."