"I will gladly do all I can for him, your mamma or any of you," she whispered.
There was no want of comfort or luxury in the sick-room.

Mother and sisters had sacrificed every such thing to this idol of their hearts, this only son and brother.

He lay propped up with pillows, his face pale as that of a corpse, and breathing with great difficulty.
Dr.Barton sat at the bedside with his finger on the patient's pulse while he asked a few brief questions, then relapsed into a thoughtful silence.
All eyes were turned upon him with intense anxiety, waiting in almost breathless suspense for his verdict; but his countenance betrayed nothing.
"O doctor!" sighed the mother at length, "have you no word of hope to speak ?" "Let us have none of false hope, doctor," gasped the sufferer, "I would know--the--worst." "My poor lad," said the kind-hearted old physician, in tender, fatherly tones, "I will not deceive you.

Whatever preparation you have to make for your last long journey, let it be made at once." With a burst of uncontrollable anguish the mother and sisters fell upon their knees at the bedside.
"How--long--doctor ?" faltered the sick man.
"You will hardly see the rising of another sun." The low, gently-spoken words pierced more than one heart as with a dagger's point.
"Was--this--wound--mortal in the--first place ?" asked Wilkins.
"I think not if it had had prompt and proper attention.

But that is a question of little importance now: you are beyond human skill.