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been attacked with croup very violently indeed, and the doctor does not give me any hope that she will live. I cannot stay with you, my darling boy."
She did not say any more, and before Arthur had scarcely understood what he had heard, his mother was gone. There was only one thought in his mind now. Mildred dying! his darling baby sister, who a little while ago had laughed, and crowed, and kicked her pretty feet as he played with her. How could it all have happened? And how soon a dark cloud had fallen over everything that had seemed so bright! And then a little picture of her fresh baby face came before him, and he could see the little rosy mouth, and bright blue eyes, and the soft cheek that he had so often kissed. Would her sweet face never laugh again? And would he never hear her clear, soft voice calling "Artie, Artie"? Arthur did not know he had loved his baby sister so deeply until now that the dark, sad news had come that perhaps she was going to be taken away from them all for ever. So he sat in the pleasant firelight on the hearth-rug; but there was no brightness on his face now. A very grave cloud had fallen on it, as the words were in his heart that his mother had told him. And then, as he thought about what they really meant, his lip quivered, and the tears fell on the floor, till at length his head bowed down on the armchair where his mother had been sitting, and Arthur sobbed bitterly all alone. It was a very hopeless, heart-sick feeling, as he wept with the vehemence of his strong, loving nature; and he had never felt in this way before; for all his life hitherto he had known what it was to be loved and to love, and had never had cause to mourn over the loss of what his heart had wound itself around.
"I wish some one would come and tell me how Mildred is," said Arthur presently to himself, after half an hour had passed when he had been crying on the rug. "I wonder is the doctor going to stay there all night?"
Poor little Arthur! it was very hard work waiting there all alone with no one to speak to, not even Hector the house-dog, his friend and confidant; for a servant had gone into the town and taken him with him. Presently the door opened, and he started up eagerly. It was the housemaid, and the candle that she held in her hand showed a grave, tear-stained face.
"Mr. Arthur, will you come upstairs?" she said. "Mistress sent me to tell you. Will you come up to the nursery?"
"Why--what--may I really? What, is she better then?" asked Arthur joyfully, and yet with a certain trembling at his heart, as he saw the expression on Anna's face.
"Oh, no, Mr. Arthur," she said, bursting into tears. "Poor, dear little darling, she can't scarce breathe; its dreadful to hear her, and she such a sweet little pet. Oh, dear, dear, dear, and whatever will mistress do, and master?"
But Arthur was not crying now as he went slowly up the stairs, feeling as if it was all a dream, and not at all as if these were the same stairs that he generally mounted, or that this was the nursery door where he had generally bounded in with a laughing shout to the bright little sister who now lay very near the shore of the other land. She was a very little girl; not two years ago she had first come; and Arthur, who had been half-afraid of the tiny baby that lay in the nurse's arms so still and quiet, had by degrees learnt to love her with all his heart. He knew just the best ways to please her, and to make her voice ring out the merry crow he so liked to hear; and always, when she saw her brother coming up the avenue that led to the house, she would stretch out her tiny arms, and try to jump from her nurse's arms to meet him.
It was only a few hours ago that Arthur had waved his hand to her, and made Hector jump and roll along the ground, that she might see him. She had looked so bright 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