A few shillings now and then, were all she could earn. The boy
worked steadily on; dying by minutes, but never once giving
utterance to complaint or murmur.

One beautiful autumn evening we went to pay our customary visit to
the invalid. His little remaining strength had been decreasing
rapidly for two or three days preceding, and he was lying on the
sofa at the open window, gazing at the setting sun. His mother had
been reading the Bible to him, for she closed the book as we
entered, and advanced to meet us.

'I was telling William,' she said, 'that we must manage to take him
into the country somewhere, so that he may get quite well. He is
not ill, you know, but he is not very strong, and has exerted
himself too much lately.' Poor thing! The tears that streamed
through her fingers, as she turned aside, as if to adjust her close
widow's cap, too plainly showed how fruitless was the attempt to
deceive herself.

We sat down by the head of the sofa, but said nothing, for we saw
the breath of life was passing gently but rapidly from the young
form before us. At every respiration, his heart beat more slowly.

The boy placed one hand in ours, grasped his mother's arm with the
other, drew her hastily towards him, and fervently kissed her
cheek. There was a pause. He sunk back upon his pillow, and
looked long and earnestly in his mother's face.

'William, William!' murmured the mother, after a long interval,