"In keeping Ellen here so late from her sister, who is, I fear, at
this moment dying."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed the mother and daughters with looks of
alarm.

"It is, I fear, too true. But now, all that can be done is to try
and make some return. I want you, Mary, and your mother, to put on
your bonnets and shawls and go with me. Something may yet be done
for poor Margaret. I have already sent for the doctor."

On the instant Mrs. Condy and Mary prepared themselves, and the
former put into a small basket some sugar and a bottle of wine, and
handed it to her husband, who accompanied them, at that late hour,
to the dwelling of the two sisters. On entering the chamber, they
found no one present but Ellen and Margaret. The latter still
reclined with her head on her sister's bosom, and seemed to have
fallen into a gentle slumber, so quiet did she lay. Ellen looked up
on the entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Condy, with Mary; and they saw that
her eyes were filled with tears, and that two large drops stood upon
her cheeks. She made a motion for them to be seated, but did not
rise from her place on the bed, nor stir by the least movement of
her body the still sleeper who leaned upon her breast. For nearly
fifteen minutes, the most profound silence reigned throughout the
chamber. The visitors understood the whole scene, and almost held
their breaths, lest even the respiration, that to them seemed
audible, should disturb the repose of the invalid. At the end of
this time the physician entered, and broke the oppressive stillness.
But neither his voice nor his step, nor the answers and explanations