"Me?" said Martin, turning a little red. "Do you know what it's about?"

"She didn't say a word, only she wanted to see you alone; but I'm
thinking it's something about her brother; he was with her a long long
time this morning, and went away more like a dead man than a live one.
But come, don't keep her waiting; and, whatever you do, don't stay
long; every word she spakes is killing her."

Martin followed his sister into the sick-room, and, gently taking
Anty's offered hand, asked her in a whisper, what he could do for her.
Jane went out; and, to do her justice sat herself down at a distance
from the door, though she was in a painful state of curiosity as to
what was being said within.

"You're all too good to me, Martin," said Anty; "you'll spoil me,
between you, minding every word I say so quick."

Martin assured her again, in a whisper, that anything and everything
they could do for her was only a pleasure.

"Don't mind whispering," said Anty; "spake out; your voice won't hurt
me. I love to hear your voices, they're all so kind and good. But
Martin, I've business you must do for me, and that at once, for I feel
within me that I'll soon be gone from this."

"We hope not, Anty; but it's all with God now--isn't it? No one knows
that betther than yourself."

"Oh yes, I do know that; and I feel it is His pleasure that it should