The sound of her voice aroused Frank, and feeling for his sister's
hand, he said, "Don't go, Mary:--don't leave me,--the moon is shining
bright, and I guess I can find my way to God just as well."

Nine;--ten;--eleven;--and then through the dingy windows the silvery
moonlight fell, as if indeed to light the way of the early lost to
heaven. Mary had drawn her mother's lounge to the side of the
trundlebed, and in a state of almost perfect exhaustion, Mrs. Howard
lay gasping for breath while Mary, as if conscious of the dread
reality about to occur, knelt by her side, occasionally caressing her
pale cheek and asking if she were better. Once Mrs. Howard laid her
hands on Mary's head, and prayed that she might be preserved and kept
from harm by the God of the orphan, and that the sin of disobedience
resting upon her own head might not be visited upon her child.

After a time a troubled sleep came upon her, and she slept, until
roused by a low sob. Raising herself up, she looked anxiously towards
her children. The moonbeams fell full upon the white, placid face of
Frank, who seemed calmly sleeping, while over him Mary bent, pushing
back from his forehead the thick, clustering curls, and striving hard
to smother her sobs, so they might not disturb her mother.

"Does he sleep?" asked Mrs. Howard, and Mary, covering with her hands
the face of him who slept, answered, "Turn away, mother;--don't look
at him. Franky is dead. He died with his arms around my neck, and told
me not to wake you."

Mrs. Howard was in the last stages of consumption, and now after
weeping over her only boy until her tears seemed dried, she lay back
half fainting upon her pillow. Towards daylight a violent coughing fit