In an hour Frank was walking up the long avenue leading to the front
door of the mansion.
The door was opened by his stepfather.
"How is mother?" asked Frank, anxiously.
"I am grieved to say that she is very sick," said Mr. Manning, in a soft
voice. "She had a copious hemorrhage this morning, which has weakened
her very much."
"Is she in danger?" asked Frank, anxiously.
"I fear she is," said Mr. Manning.
"I suppose I can see her?"
"Yes; but it will be better not to make her talk much."
"I will be careful, sir."
Frank waited no longer, but hurried to his mother's chamber. As he
entered, and his glance fell on the bed and its occupant, he was shocked
by the pale and ghastly appearance of the mother whom he so dearly
loved. The thought came to him at once:
"She cannot live."
He found it difficult to repress a rising sob, but he did so for his
mother's sake. He thought that it might affect her injuriously if he
should display emotion.
His mother smiled faintly as he approached the bed.
"Mother," said Frank, kneeling by the bedside, "are you very weak?"
"Yes, Frank," she answered, almost in a whisper. "I think I am going to
leave you.
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