Then Rosalie's mother seemed very tired, and her careful nurse would not
let her talk any more, but made her lie quite quietly without moving. When
Rosalie left her to go on the stage, she was sleeping peacefully, with kind
Mother Manikin sitting by her side. And when the child returned late at
night, there she was sitting still. And she insisted on Rosalie's
undressing and creeping into bed beside her mother, that she might have a
proper night's rest. For poor little Rosalie was completely exhausted with
the stifling air, the fatigue, and the anxiety to which she had been
subjected.

The next day her mother seemed to have revived a little, and was able to
take a little food, and to talk to her in whispers from time to time.

'Rosalie,' she said, that afternoon, 'there is a verse come back to me
which our old nurse taught me; I haven't thought of it for years, but that
night when I was so ill I woke saying it.'

'What is it, mammie dear?' said Rosalie.

'"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own
way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." That was it,
dear.'

'Mother Manikin told me you said something about sheep, mammie.'

'Yes, that was it,' said the poor woman; 'it's such a beautiful verse! "All
we like sheep have gone astray;" that's just like me, darling--I've gone
astray, oh, so far astray! "And have turned every one to his own way;"
that's me again,--my own way, that's just what it was;--I chose it myself;
I would have my own way. It's just like me, Rosalie.'