"Helen!" I whispered softly，"are you awake?"

She stirred herself，put back the curtain，and I saw her face，pale，wasted，but quite posed: she looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated.

"Can it be you，Jane?" she asked，in her own gentle voice.

"Oh!" I thought，"she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she could not speak and look so calmly if she were."

I got on to her crib and kissed her: her forehead was cold，and her cheek both cold and thin，and so were her hand and wrist; but she smiled as of old.

"Why are you e here，Jane? It is past eleven o"clock: I heard it strike some minutes since."

"I came to see you，Helen: I heard you were very ill，and I could not sleep till I had spoken to you."

"You came to bid me good-bye，then: you are just in time probably."

"Are you going somewhere，Helen? Are you going home?"

"Yes; to my long home- my last home."

"No，no，Helen!" I stopped，distressed. While I tried to devour my tears，a fit of coughing seized Helen; it did not，however，wake the nurse; when it was over，she lay some minutes exhausted; then she whispered-

"Jane，your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt."