"Margaret!--How are you, Margaret?" she said, pressing up to the bedside, and putting her hand upon the forehead of her sister. It was cold and clammy. A violent fit of coughing prevented a reply. A light was obtained in a few minutes, and showed the countenance of Margaret slightly distorted from difficult breathing, and her forehead perceptibly corrugated.

"You are worse, sister!" exclaimed Ellen, kissing her damp forehead.

"No, not much worse. My cough is only a little troublesome," was the quiet reply.

"You have had no supper yet, of course," said Ellen. "A cup of hot tea will do you good."

This was soon prepared, and Margaret ate with a keen appet.i.te.

After tea, she was much better. The cold perspiration ceased, and her skin became dry and warm. A brief conversation pa.s.sed between the sisters, when Margaret fell off into a pleasant slumber. On the next morning, with much reluctance and many misgivings as to whether it were right to leave her sister alone, Ellen went to Mrs. Condy's.

Before going, however, she asked the kind neighbour who lived below, to look in occasionally, and to see that Margaret had a good cup of tea for dinner. This was promised, and she felt lighter at heart.

Ellen worked hard through that day; but when night came, with all the help she had received, the first dress was not finished. Unless one dress were finished each day, the three could not be done by Sunday; and this not being the case on the first day, how could she go home that night? for if she worked a few hours longer, the garment would be ready for the wearer.

"I must run home a little while," said she, mentally, "and then come back again. But how can I leave Margaret all night? She may die!"

The thought caused her to shudder.

At length she said to Mrs. Condy--

"I can't leave sister all night, madam. But I can take your dress home with me, and by sitting up late, I can easily finish it. You will have no objection to my doing this, I hope?"

Mrs. Condy paused a moment, for she did feel an objection to this being done; but humanity prevailed, and she consented. This relieved Ellen's mind very greatly, and she bundled up the dress, and hurried away with it. Margaret appeared more feeble than she was in the morning; and her cough was very troublesome. It was nearly twelve o'clock when the last st.i.tch was taken in Mrs. Condy's dress. And then Ellen retired to her bed. But it was a long time before she could sleep. The nervous excitement, induced by protracted labour and great anxiety of mind, drove slumber from her eyelids for many hours. Towards morning she fell into a troubled sleep, and awoke at daylight unrefreshed.

This day was Friday, and Jane's dress came next in turn. Ellen applied herself with even greater a.s.siduity than she had used on the preceding day; but, as Jane's dress required more tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, and less a.s.sistance was given her on it, the progress she made towards its completion was in no way promising. After dinner her head began to ache, and continued its throbbing, almost blinding pain, until the evening twilight began to fall, and the darkness compelled her to suspend her work.

"Why, Ellen, Jane's dress isn't nigh done," said Mary, in tones of surprise, on coming into the room, at the moment Ellen laid the garment aside.

"No, but I'll finish it to-night," replied Ellen.

"Why, it'll take you pretty much all night to finish this," she said, lifting and examining her sister's dress. "How in the world did you get so behindhand, Ellen?"

"This is a harder dress to make than your mother's," replied Ellen; "and besides having had less help on it, my head has ached very badly all the afternoon."

Without seeming to notice the last reason given, Mary said--

"Well, if you can possibly get it done to-night, Ellen, you must do so. It would never answer in the world not to have all the dresses done by to-morrow night."

"I will have it done," was the brief reply, made in a low tone.

Jane's dress was taken home that night, unfinished by full six or seven hours' work. As Ellen had feared, she found Margaret suffering much from her cough. After preparing some food for her sister, whose appet.i.te still remained good, she drank a cup of tea, and then sat down to work upon the mourning garment. Towards midnight, Margaret, who had fallen asleep early in the evening, began to grow restless, and to moan as if in pain. Every now and then, Ellen would pause in her work and look towards the bed, with an anxious countenance; and once or twice she got up, and stood over her sister; but she did not awake. It was three o'clock when the last st.i.tch was taken, and then Margaret's cough had awakened her, and she seemed to suffer so much from that and from difficult breathing, that Ellen, even after lying down, did not go to sleep for an hour. It was long after sunrise when she awoke.

"Must you go to-day, too?" inquired Margaret, looking into her sister's face anxiously, on seeing her, after the hastily prepared breakfast had been eaten, take up her bonnet and shawl.

"Yes, Margaret, I must go to-day. There is one more dress to be made, and that must be done. But after to-day, I won't go out anywhere again until you are better."

"I don't think I shall ever be better again, Ellen," said the sick girl. "I am getting so weak; and I feel just as if I shouldn't stay here but a little while. You don't know how strange I feel sometimes. Oh, I wish you didn't have to go out to-day!" And she looked so earnestly into the face of her sister, that the tears sprung into Ellen's eyes.

"If I can persuade them to put this last dress off until next week, and then get some one else to make it, I will," said the sister: "but if I can't, Margaret, try and keep up your spirits. I'll ask Mrs. Ryland, down-stairs, to come and sit with you a little while at a time through the day; and so if I can't; get off, you won't be altogether without company."

"I wish you would, sister, for I feel so lonesome sometimes,"

replied Margaret, mournfully.

Mrs. Ryland consented, for she was a kind-hearted woman, and liked the sisters, and Ellen hurried away to Mrs. Condy's.

"You are very late this morning, ain't you?" said Mary Condy, as Ellen entered with Jane's finished dress.

"I am a little late, Miss Mary, but I sat up until three o'clock this morning, and overslept myself in consequence."

"Well, you'll finish my dress to-day, of course?"

"Really, Miss Mary, I hardly know what to say about it. Sister is so very poorly, that I am almost afraid to leave her alone. Can't you in any way put yours off until next week? I have been up nearly all night for two nights, and feel very unwell this morning." And certainly her pale cheeks, sunken eyes, and haggard countenance fully confirmed her statement.

"It will be impossible, Ellen," was Mary's prompt and positive response. "I must go to church to-morrow, and cannot, of course, go out, without my black dress."

With a sigh, Ellen sat down and resumed her needle. After a while she said--

"Miss Mary, I cannot finish your dress, unless you and your sister help me a good deal."

"Oh, we'll do that, of course," replied Mary, getting up and leaving the room.

It was nearly eleven o'clock before Mary thought of helping Ellen any, and then two or three young ladies came in to pay a visit of condolence, and prevented her. Tears were shed at first; and then gradually a more cheerful tone of feeling succeeded, and so much interested were the young ladies in each other's company, that the moments pa.s.sed rapidly away, and advanced the time near on to the dinner hour. It was full three o'clock before Mary and Jane sat themselves down to help Ellen. The afternoon seemed almost to fly away, and when it was nightfall, the dress was not half finished.

"Will it be possible to get it done to-night?" asked Mrs. Condy.

"It will be hard work, madam," said Ellen, whose heart was with her sister.

"Oh, it can be finished," said Mary, "if we all work hard for two or three hours. The fact is, it must be done. I wouldn't miss having it for the world."

With a sigh, Ellen turned again to her work; though feeble nature was wellnigh sinking under the task forced upon her. It was past eleven o'clock when the dress was finished, and Ellen prepared to go home to her sister.

"But you are not going home to-night?" said Mr. Condy, who was now present.

"O yes, sir. I haven't seen sister since morning, and she's very ill."

"What is the matter with your sister?" asked Mr. Condy, in a kind tone.

"I'm afraid she's got the consump--" It vas the first time Ellen had attempted to utter the word, and the sound, even though the whole of it remained unspoken, broke down her feelings, and she burst into tears.

Instinctively, Mr. Condy reached for his hat and cane, and as he saw Ellen recover, by a strong effort, her self-possession, he said--

"It is too late for you to go home alone, Ellen, and as we cannot ask you, under the circ.u.mstances, to stay all night, I will go with you."

Ellen looked her grat.i.tude, for she was really afraid to go into the street alone at that late hour. As they walked along, Mr. Condy, by many questions, ascertained that Ellen had been almost compelled to work day and night to make up mourning garments for his family, and to absent herself from her sick sister, while she needed her most careful attention. Arrived at her humble dwelling, his benevolent feelings prompted him to ascertain truly the condition of Margaret, for his heart misgave him that her end was very nigh.

On entering the chamber, they found Mrs. Ryland, the neighbour who lived below, supporting Margaret in the bed, who was gasping for breath as if every moment in fear of suffocation. Ellen sprung forward with a sudden exclamation, and, taking Mrs. Ryland's place, let the head of her sister fall gently upon her bosom. Mr. Condy looked on for a moment, and then hastily retired. As soon as he reached home, he despatched a servant for the family physician, with a special request to have him visit Ellen's sister immediately. He then went into his wife's chamber, where the daughters, with their mother, were engaged in looking over their new morning apparel.

"I'm afraid," said he, "that you have unintentionally been guilty of a great wrong."

"How?" asked Mrs. Condy, looking up with sudden surprise.