Fast the shades of night came on, and when all was dark in the sick room, Mary sobbed out, "We have no candle, mother, and if I go for one, and he should die--" The sound of her voice aroused Frank, and feeling for his sister's hand, he said, "Don't go, Mary:--don't leave me,--the moon is shining bright, and I guess I can find my way to God just as well." Nine;--ten;--eleven;--and then through the dingy windows the silvery moonlight fell, as if indeed to light the way of the early lost to heaven.

Mary had drawn her mother's lounge to the side of the trundlebed, and in a state of almost perfect exhaustion, Mrs.Howard lay gasping for breath while Mary, as if conscious of the dread reality about to occur, knelt by her side, occasionally caressing her pale cheek and asking if she were better.

Once Mrs.Howard laid her hands on Mary's head, and prayed that she might be preserved and kept from harm by the God of the orphan, and that the sin of disobedience resting upon her own head might not be visited upon her child.
After a time a troubled sleep came upon her, and she slept, until roused by a low sob.

Raising herself up, she looked anxiously towards her children.

The moonbeams fell full upon the white, placid face of Frank, who seemed calmly sleeping, while over him Mary bent, pushing back from his forehead the thick, clustering curls, and striving hard to smother her sobs, so they might not disturb her mother.
"Does he sleep ?" asked Mrs.Howard, and Mary, covering with her hands the face of him who slept, answered, "Turn away, mother;--don't look at him.