The blinds were partially drawn as the strong light worried the child, and by the little white bed sat Assunta, her brown face pale and almost rigid with anxiety.

At my approach she raised her eyes to mine, muttering softly: "It is always so.

Our Lady will have the best of all, first the father, then the child; it is right and just--only the bad are left." "Papa!" moaned a little voice feebly, and Stella sat up among her tumbled pillows, with wide-opened wild eyes, feverish cheeks, and parted lips through which the breath came in quick, uneasy gasps.
Shocked at the marks of intense suffering in her face, I put my arms tenderly round her--she smiled faintly and tried to kiss me.

I pressed the poor parched little mouth and murmured, soothingly: "Stella must be patient and quiet--Stella must lie down, the pain will be better so; there! that is right!" as the child sunk back on her bed obediently, still keeping her gaze fixed upon me.

I knelt at the bedside, and watched her yearningly--while Assunta moistened her lips, and did all she could to ease the pain endured so meekly by the poor little thing whose breathing grew quicker and fainter with every tick of the clock.