They soon decided that, should Mrs. Harwood not recover, they would gladly adopt her little boy as their own, if she felt willing to leave him to their care. So great was the anxiety of Mrs. Harwood regarding her child, that it was long ere she gave up hopes of recovery, but when she at length became aware that she must die, she at first found it very difficult to resign herself to the will of Heaven. "Were it not for my child," she would often say, "the prospect of death would not be unpleasant to me, for I have a comforting hope of a life beyond the grave; but who will care for my orphan boy when I am no more? I must not distrust the goodness of the orphans' God." Mr. Humphrey, in reply to these remarks one day, said to her-- "I hope you will make your mind perfectly easy in regard to your child; for, should it please God to remove you by death, I have already decided to adopt little Ernest as my own son, if you feel willing to consign him to my care; and you may rest assured that while my life is spared he shall be tenderly cared for, as though he were my own son." "Now," replied Mrs. Harwood, "can I die willingly. Since my illness it has been my daily and nightly prayer, that should it be the will of Heaven that I should not recover, God would raise up friends to care for my orphan boy, and that prayer is now answered." Just six weeks from the evening on which Mrs. Harwood entered the dwelling of Mr. Humphrey, her eyes were closed in death. The last day of her life was passed mostly in a kind of lethargy, from which it was almost impossible to arouse her. Toward evening she rallied, and her mind seemed clear and calm. She was aware that the hour of her death had arrived; but she felt no fears in the prospect of her approaching dissolution. She thanked Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey for their kindness to her, and again tenderly committed to their care her boy, who would soon become an orphan. "I am powerless to reward you," said the dying woman, "but God will certainly reward you for your kindness to the widow and orphan." She requested that her child might be brought and placed by her side. Placing her thin wasted hands upon his head she said, in a voice scarcely audible,-- "May the God who never forsakes the orphan preserve my precious boy amid the perils and dangers of the sinful world!" She drew the face of the child close to her own, and imprinted a mother's last kiss upon his brow, and sank back exhausted upon her pillow. A few more fluttering quick drawn breaths and her spirit had winged its way from earth, and no one who witnessed her death felt a doubt that its flight was heavenward. CHAPTER III. The following brief account of the early life of Mrs. Harwood I give as nearly as possible in her own words:--