"Why, so you shall, and be bridesmaid too, if you like," answered her mother. "Why not?" "Then, mamma, I should like them to be married pretty soon," replied Betty, "because I don't believe I shall be here a great while longer." This was the first time she had spoken so plainly, though she had hinted as much a good many times lately. My Lady started and looked anxiously at her. "Why do you say that, my darling?" she asked. "Don't you feel as well?" "I don't know, mamma," said Betty. "I feel languid and weary, and there is a feeling 'here,'" (pressing her hand to her heart,) "which I never had before you were ill, and which tells me that I shall not live long." "Dear child, that is only a fancy," said her mother, kissing her. "You must drive away such gloomy thoughts." "They are not gloomy," said this strange child; "and they are not fancies, either. Something calls me away all the time, and at night, when I lie awake, I hear such strange, beautiful music in the air and among the trees. But I wont talk about it, if it makes you unhappy, dear mamma," she added, seeing the tears in her mother's eyes. "Only, if you please, I should so much like to have Walter and Margaret married very soon. Please, wont you have it so?" "We will see," answered her mother. Betty was silent, but I could see she was turning the matter over in her mind, as her fashion is. And when she went to bed, she spoke of it again. "Margaret, if you want to make me very happy, you will be married very soon. I am quite sure that I have only a little time to live now, and I do so want to see you married. Please do let me speak to papa about it." What could I say? I saw how much in earnest she was, and I believed with herself that she had not long to live, and that she might go from us in any of the fainting fits she had lately. She saw, I suppose, that I was moved, and urged me again, even with tears, to let her speak to my Lord. "Don't cry!" said I, alarmed. "You shall do as you please, but you must not cry, or you will bring on one of your bad times again." But the bad time came, in spite of me. She fainted, and it was more than ten minutes before we could bring her round. I began to think she had gone for good, but she breathed again at last, her breath coming in most painful gasps and sobs. She is weaker after every one of these fits, and longer in recovering herself. When she mentioned the subject again, I told her she should do as she liked, and at last she went to sleep, quite content and happy. I did not leave her save to go to my room and put on my wrapper. As I went out into the gallery, I met Mr. Van Dyke, with his hands full of toys and sweetmeats. "See here, Mistress Merton," said he. "Cannot we put these into the shoes of my little lady and Catharine, and so give them a pleasant surprise, and let them think the good Saint Nicholas has been to visit them?"