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and rosy then, and now it was all so different!
The room felt warm as he entered, and there seemed to be a great many
people around the little white bed where Mildred lay. Arthur never,
never forgot that scene; it lay on his heart like a strange, sad picture all
his life. He could not see his little sister's face, only a stray golden curl
was peeping from the white sheet, and lay on the pillow; he could hear
her breathing, and it made his heart quiver to listen to the sounds. The
nurse was standing a little aside; for there was nothing more for her to
do. She had been placing hot flannels, and trying favourite remedies;
but these were all of no avail. The doctor was standing at the post of the
bed; for he knew that Mildred's little life was ebbing fast. And then
Arthur looked at his father and mother. His mother was sitting by the
pillow, and she almost lay upon the bed as she leant over her little
dying child. His father was standing close by, and Arthur looked again
at the expression that was on his face. He was in general a little afraid
of his father; in fact, for the last two or three years he had not seen him

at all, and it was only by the kind letters and messages from India, that
he had known him of late, and he had thought him rather grave and
stern, he was so different from his sweet, gentle mother; and though
Arthur loved him at a distance, he had quite different feelings for her.
But now, as he looked again, he saw that a softness was on his father's
face, and that the hand that was laid on his wife's shoulder was
trembling; and the thought that was in Arthur's mind just then was,
"Father really looks as if he was going to cry."
Presently his mother went a little closer to her baby, and Arthur just
heard her whisper, "Let her die in my arms." His father looked as if he
thought it would be better not. But she looked up again: "Give her, I
must." So very gently she took the covering from the child, and drew
her to her arms.
Little Mildred did not lie there very long. It was terrible to see her, and
Arthur could hardly bear to look; but he did look as the convulsions
made her struggle and gasp for breath.
At length he heard his father's voice in a low whisper say, "She's gone;
thank God." And then he saw him take a little helpless form from his
mother's arms and lay it back on the white bed, and Arthur saw that his
tiny sister was dead. She was lying still, her breath was gone for ever;
her eyes were closed, and her curls lay soft and golden on the pillow.
She would never open her blue eyes again, and her voice would never
more call "Artie, Artie."
He just saw that his mother sunk down on the floor by the bedside. He
could not see her face, but he heard a deep, deep groan, and then she
said, "My baby, my darling." She did not cry, she only knelt there still
and silent; and then suddenly a great rush of feeling came over Arthur's
heart as the thought of sweet little Mildred lying dead came over his
mind, and he threw himself by his mother's side, burying his face on
her shoulder, and burst into a passion of crying. "Oh, mamma,
mamma!" was all he said. "Don't, Arthur; you had better go down stairs,
my boy," said his father gently. But his mother whispered, "Let him
stay;" and she threw her arms round him, and clasped him so tightly

that he could hardly breathe.
Perhaps it was good for her to hear her child's sobs; they seemed to
enter into her heart and melt it, for it was icy in its mourning before.
"God has taken our little Mildred," said Arthur's father presently, in a
very choked, quivering voice. "He has taken her to be very happy with
Himself. He will take care of her for ever."
"I know it," said Arthur's mother; "better than we could."
Presently Arthur got up, and before he went away from the room he
threw his arms once more around his little dead sister, and the tears fell
over her golden curls and her round fair cheeks, which were still round
and red.
He cried himself to sleep that night, and when he awoke in the morning
it was with a dreary feeling that a great deal was gone. He was the only
child now, and as he stood by the little open grave where Mildred's tiny
coffin