Here I will leave them bemoaning their fate, and return to Paul, who, on returning home, found his mother very ill. She gradually grew worse day by day. All medical skill was of no avail and they could not restore her to ordinary health. Time passed drearily at that once pleasant home. Paul, sad hearted, went about the house as one in a dream, never speaking to any one except to give orders to servants and inquire about his mother, whom he loved more fondly than ever. He knew she would soon leave him, and it grieved him very much to see her sad, pale face as she would look fondly at him and say, “I will soon be at rest—free from all earthly trouble.” She lingered through the fall and long dreary winter months, and as the buds came on the trees in the following spring she breathed her last, while lying in the arms of her affectionate son. Sad was the scene, to see the young man fondly clasp his mother to his breast while tears fell like rain, on the sad, silent face. A few moments before she died she called for her son, and when he did not come immediately she said, “Must I die and not tell him? I ought to have done it before now. Oh, where is my boy? Will he come soon?” she asked faintly, turning her face to the wall. Pompey, hearing her call, went into the room in time to hear her last words. He went to her bedside as he said, “Paul will come soon. He went down the lane to see if the doctor is coming. I’s sent for him and he will come very fast when he hears de news. Missus, I’s been berry kind and obedient to you, ain’t I? I’s lived with you ever since Paul was a little chick. Anything you want me to tell him, Missus?” “Yes, my faithful man, you know the whole history of my life, and when I am gone tell him not to censure his father as it was all my fault—his leaving home; but make my sin as light as you can. There is a little tin box in the garret that will tell him all he wishes to know.” She nearly held out her hand to the faithful man, saying, “It’s very hard bidding you goodbye, Pompey, and may God bless you forever!” She whispered the last words, and as her son came into the room her eyes brightened for a moment and she tried to speak to him but could not. Her breath grew shorter and shorter with each moment, and soon she was no more. They laid her beneath the weeping willow tree and at her grave the son placed a neat monument in memory of her who reared him to manhood. Sad and dreary was that house to Paul. The sunshine had fled and only shadows remained. No mother now to kiss him good night; no father to bear with him this sorrow, and the only being he loved beside his mother was gone, he knew not where. The only friends that deeply sympathized with him except the servants were John Hilton’s family, especially Warren, who was there night and day and kept Paul company through this sad affliction. When this kind companion went home Paul could not reconcile himself to stay in the house where once was life and joy for him.