When we reached the house I found that Wynnie would not be in the way. I
left her seated by the kitchen-fire, and was shown into the room where Mrs.
Stokes lay. I cannot say I perceived. But I guessed somehow, the moment I
saw her that there was something upon her mind. She was a hard-featured
woman, with a cold, troubled black eye that rolled restlessly about. She
lay on her back, moving her head from side to side. When I entered she only
looked at me, and turned her eyes away towards the wall. I approached the
bedside, and seated myself by it. I always do so at once; for the patient
feels more at rest than if you stand tall up before her. I laid my hand on
hers.

"Are you very ill, Mrs. Stokes?" I said.

"Yes, very," she answered with a groan. "It be come to the last with me."

"I hope not, indeed, Mrs. Stokes. It's not come to the last with us, so
long as we have a Father in heaven."

"Ah! but it be with me. He can't take any notice of the like of me."

"But indeed he does, whether you think it or not. He takes notice of every
thought we think, and every deed we do, and every sin we commit."

I said the last words with emphasis, for I suspected something more than
usual upon her conscience. She gave another groan, but made no reply. I
therefore went on.

"Our Father in heaven is not like some fathers on earth, who, so long as
their children don't bother them, let them do anything they like. He will