the medicine, and I hope he will soon be better now."

"No, he wont; he'll not live a month!" she exclaimed half angrily; then
glancing at Evelyn's pale, terror-stricken face, "Pshaw, child! don't be
frightened," she said; "I did not really mean it; I dare say we shall
have him about again in a few weeks."

"Mamma, what _do_ you _really_ think?" asked the little girl, clasping
her hands and gazing into her mother's face with a look of agonized
entreaty. "I know you believe in deceiving people sometimes when you
think it for their good, for I have heard you say so; but I want to know
the truth, even if it breaks my heart."

"I'm not a doctor, Evelyn," returned her mother coldly; "I can judge only
from appearances, which are as visible to you as to me. Besides, what is
the use of my giving my opinion, since you choose to believe I am capable
of intentionally deceiving you?"

With the last word she sailed from the room, leaving Evelyn alone in the
parlor, where the conversation had taken place.

Evelyn sat like one stunned by a heavy blow. Could it be that her father
was dying--the dear father who was all the world to her? Oh, what would
life be worth without him? how could she go on living? How soon would the
dread parting come? how many more days or hours might she spend in his
dear companionship? Ah, those precious hours were fast slipping away;
every moment spent away from his side was a great loss; she would go to
him at once.

She started up, but dropped into her seat again; "mamma" was with him,