Sarah herself remarked this, even in the anguish of the moment.
"My very heart knows and loves the word," she said.

"Oh! why is it that I am to suffer this?
Is it possible that the empty name is all that's left me afther all?
Mother, come here--I am pleadin' for my father now--you pleaded against him, but I always took the weakest side--here is God now among us--you must stand before him--look your daughter in the face--an' answer her as you expect to meet God, when you leave this throubled life--truth--truth now, mother, an' nothin' else.

Mother, I am dyin'.

Now, as God is to judge you, did you ever love my father as a wife ought ?" There was some irresistible spirit, some unaccountable power, in her manner and language,--such command and such wonderful love of candor in her full dark eye--that it was impossible to gainsay or withstand her.
"I will spake the thruth," replied her mother, evidently borne away and subdued, "although it's against myself--to my shame an' to my sorrow I say it--that when I married your father, another man had my affections--but, as I'm to appear before God, I never wronged him.

I don't know how it is that you've made me confess it; but at any rate you're the first that ever wrung it out o' me." "That will do," replied her daughter, calmly; "that sounds like murdher from a mother's lips! Lay me down now, Biddy." Mave, who had scarcely ever taken her eyes from off her varying and busy features, was now struck by a singular change which she observed come over them--a change that was nothing but the shadow of death, and cannot be described.
"Sarah!" she exclaimed; "dear, darling Sarah, what is the matter with you?
Have you got ill again ?" "Oh! my child!" exclaimed her mother--"am I to lose you this way at last?
Oh! dear Sarah, forgive me--I'm you mother, and you'll forgive me." "Mave," said Sarah, "take this--I remember seein' yours and mine together not very long ago--take this lock of my hair--I think you'll get a pair of scissors on the corner of the shelf--cut it off with your own hands--let it be sent to my father--an' when he's dyin' a disgraceful death, let him wear it next his heart--an' wherever he's to be buried, let him have this buried with him.