"Why, yes, my dear girl; certainly it is, if God wills it. How often have I talked to you about the REST after the grave! No more tears, no more partings. Which is best--to be here, or to go to that rest? Oh, Janey! we can put up surely with illness and with crosses here, if we may only attain to that. This world will last only for a little while at best; but that other will abide for ever and for ever." A summons from Mr. Parry's boy: Miss Halliburton's medicine had arrived. Miss Halliburton made a grievous face over it, when her mamma poured the dose out. "I never _can_ take it! It smells so nasty!" Jane held the wine-glass towards her, a grave, kind smile upon her face. "My darling, it is one of earth's little crosses; _try_ and not rebel against it. Here's a bit of Patience's jam left, to take after it." Janey smiled bravely as she took the glass. "It was not so bad as I thought, mamma," said she, when she had swallowed it. "Of course not, Janey; nothing is that we set about with a brave heart." But, with every good thing, Janey did not improve. Her mother shrank from admitting the fact that was growing only too palpable; and Dobbs would come in and sit looking at Janey for a quarter of an hour together, never speaking. "Why do you look at me so, Dobbs?" asked Janey, one day, suddenly. "You were crying when you looked at me last night at dusk." Dobbs was rather taken to. "I had been peeling onions," said she. "Why do you shrink from looking at the truth?" an inward voice kept repeating in Mrs. Halliburton's heart. "Is it right, or wise, or well to do so?" No; she knew that it could not be. That same day, after Mr. Parry had paid his visit to Mrs. Reece, he looked in upon Janey. "Am I getting better?" she asked him. "I want to go into the green fields again, and run about." "Ah," said he, "we must wait for that, little maid." Jane went out to the door with him. When he put out his hand to say good morning, he saw that she was white with emotion, and could not speak readily. "Will she live or die, Mr. Parry?" was the whispered question that came at last. "Now don't distress yourself, Mrs. Halliburton. In these lingering cases we must be content to wait the issue, whatever it may be." "I have had so much trouble of one sort or another, that I think I have become inured to it," she continued, striving to speak more calmly. "These several days past I have been deciding to ask you the truth. If I am to lose her, it will be better that I should know it beforehand: it will be easier for me to bear. She is in danger, is she not?" "Yes," he replied; "I fear she is." "Is there any hope?" "Well, you know, Mrs. Halliburton, while there is life there is hope." His tone was kindly; but she could not well mistake that, of human hope, there was none. Her lips were pale--her bosom was heaving. "I understand," she murmured. "Tell me one other thing: how near is the end?"