Mr. Graham made no objection, and Mr. Mather set himself to the task of writing the letter, which he hoped was to bring not only Annie, but his own precious Rose. “Don’t say a word about my _arm_. I’d rather tell her myself. She won’t mind it so much when she sees how sick and weak I am,” George suggested; and so Mr. Mather bade Rose keep the amputation to herself as heretofore. “You will defray Mrs. Graham’s expenses,” he wrote, “and come as soon as possible, for her husband is nearer death than you imagine.” The letter was finished and read aloud to George, who faintly nodded his thanks, and then the message was sent on its way to the North. CHAPTER XII. GETTING READY. “Oh, I’ve such perfectly splendid news this morning. We are going to Washington right away, you and I, for Will says so in his letter. You see George is a great deal,—George can’t,—well, _George isn’t very well_;” and quite delighted with the happy turn she had given her words, Rose skipped around Annie’s cottage like a bird, lighting at last upon a stool at Annie’s feet, and asking if she were not glad. “Why, how white you are!” she exclaimed, as she observed the paleness of Annie’s cheek. “What makes you? Don’t you want to go?” Annie was not deceived by Rose’s abrupt turn. She knew that George was worse, else he had never sent for her: and hence the sudden faintness, which Rose’s gay badinage could not shake off at once. “Did your husband write, or mine?” she asked, and Rose replied, “Will, of course. George has never written, you know.” “Yes, I know;” and in Annie’s voice there was a tone approaching nearer to bitterness than any that Rose had ever heard from her. “Where is the letter? Let me read it for myself.” But Rose had found it convenient to leave the letter at home, and so she answered, “I did not bring it with me. I can tell you all there is in it.” “But will you?” and Annie grasped her shoulder firmly. “Win you tell me all? Tell me what it is about my husband, and why he never writes? Is George dying, and is that the reason why he sends for me? Tell me, Mrs. Mather, for I will not be put off longer.” There was a look in the blue eyes before which Rose fairly quailed, and turning her face away she answered truthfully, “Yes, George is very sick. He will never come home again; and he wants you there when he dies.”