My ancestor, notwithstanding, was deeply struck with the physical
changes in the appearance of his wife.

"Thou art much emaciated, Betsey," he said, taking her hand kindly,
after a long and solemn pause; "much more so than I had thought, or
could have believed! Dost nurse give thee comforting soups and
generous nourishment?"

My mother smiled the ghastly smile of death; but waved her hand,
with loathing, at his suggestion.

"All this is now too late, Mr. Goldencalf," she answered, speaking
with a distinctness and an energy for which she had long been
reserving her strength. "Food and raiment are no longer among my
wants."

"Well, well, Betsey, one that is in want of neither food nor
raiment, cannot be said to be in great suffering, after all; and I
am glad that thou art so much at ease. Dr. Etherington tells me thou
art far from being well bodily, however, and I am come expressly to
see if I can order anything that will help to make thee more easy."

"Mr. Goldencalf, you can. My wants for this life are nearly over; a
short hour or two will remove me beyond the world, its cares, its
vanities, its--" My poor mother probably meant to add, its
heartlessness or its selfishness; but she rebuked herself, and
paused: "By the mercy of our blessed Redeemer, and through the
benevolent agency of this excellent man," she resumed, glancing her
eye upwards at first with holy reverence, and then at the divine
with meek gratitude, "I quit you without alarm, and were it not for