Mrs. Leigh knelt down by the bed, and spoke in the most soothing tones.

"Lizzie, dear, don't speak so. I'm thy mother, darling; don't be afeard
of me. I never left off loving thee, Lizzie. I was always a-thinking of
thee. Thy father forgave thee afore he died." (There was a little start
here, but no sound was heard.) "Lizzie, lass, I'll do aught for thee;
I'll live for thee; only don't be afeard of me. Whate'er thou art or
hast been, we'll ne'er speak on't. We'll leave th' oud times behind us,
and go back to the Upclose Farm. I but left it to find thee, my lass;
and God has led me to thee. Blessed be His name. And God is good, too,
Lizzie. Thou hast not forgot thy Bible, I'll be bound, for thou wert
always a scholar. I'm no reader, but I learnt off them texts to comfort
me a bit, and I've said them many a time a day to myself. Lizzie, lass,
don't hide thy head so; it's thy mother as is speaking to thee. Thy
little child clung to me only yesterday; and if it's gone to be an angel,
it will speak to God for thee. Nay, don't sob a that 'as; thou shalt
have it again in heaven; I know thou'lt strive to get there, for thy
little Nancy's sake--and listen! I'll tell thee God's promises to them
that are penitent--only doan't be afeard."

Mrs. Leigh folded her hands, and strove to speak very clearly, while she
repeated every tender and merciful text she could remember. She could
tell from the breathing that her daughter was listening; but she was so
dizzy and sick herself when she had ended, that she could not go on
speaking. It was all she could do to keep from crying aloud.

At last she heard her daughter's voice.

"Where have they taken her to?" she asked.