And there sat those gentle children in the fever wards so wickedly deserted. From time to time Isabel parted the violet lips of her poor mother, and forced through them the liquid fraud that was so cruelly deceiving them. Mary went from bed to bed administering to the dying poor, as she had done the night before; but with a heavy heart, for all that she gave them imparted no strength. She could see the helpless creatures droop and sink from minute to minute; one or two were benefited, but the rest only seemed worse from all her tending. Mary was giving a draught of water to a young woman, who in her delirium clamored constantly for drink, when Isabel stole softly to her side. The child was very pale, and her large eyes dilated with terror. She took hold of Mary's dress and pulled it. "Mary, oh, Mary, she did not swallow the last. Come, come and help me!" Mary sat down the water pitcher and went to Mrs. Chester. She bent down close to the motionless face, listening. You could see her cheek grow pale in the dim light, as she held her own breath, hoping to catch one flutter from those white and parted lips. She lifted her head at last, and turned her mournful eyes on Isabel. The little girl looked imploringly upon her--she shed no tear--uttered no word; but fell, like a wounded bird, prone to the floor, and there stood poor Mary in the midst of death, utterly alone. When the nurses came reeling up from their carouse, three lay dead upon those narrow cots besides Mrs. Chester, and two were dying. "Go and call Crofts!" cried Mrs. Fuller, staggering from bed to bed, reckless and fierce. "Let us have the cots cleared--bring in the shrouds, I say. Tell Crofts we have plenty of use for his pine boxes to-night." The other nurse obeyed her, muttering fiercely against the unevenness of the floor. The coffins were brought in, and these two wretched women arranged the poor creatures they had murdered, for their pauper graves. They came to Mrs. Chester last, but Mary Fuller, who knelt by the bed-side with poor Isabel senseless at her feet, arose and stood firmly before her mother. "You shall not touch her! You shall not even look at her!" cried the noble child--and with her trembling hand she drew the sheet over the features she had so dearly loved. The woman glared fiercely upon the child. Drink had rendered her ferocious--she lifted her clenched hand, shaking it savagely, and an oath broke from her hot lips--an oath over the beautiful dead. "I--I will put that on," said the child, pointing to the shroud which the nurse held crushed under her arm. "Out of my way!" cried the furious woman--"out of the way, or I will strike you!" "Mother, leave this poor lady to me, or I will go myself and call up the doctor," answered the child firmly. "Out of my way!" repeated the wretched woman. The child grew pale as death, but in her eyes rose the steady firmness of a meek but strong spirit, fully aroused.