the sufferer.

"Not much, father," was the whispered reply. "Don't speak of this
to mother, yet. I'm afraid it will kill her."

What could the father answer? Nothing! And he was silent.

"Does she know of it?" A shadow went over his face.

Mr. Hammond shook his head.

Yet, even as he spoke, a wild cry of distress was heard below.
Some indiscreet person had borne to the ears of the mother the
fearful news about her son, and she had come wildly flying toward
the tavern, and was just entering.

"It is my poor mother," said Willy, a flush coming into his pale
face. "Who could have told her of this?"

Mr. Hammond started for the door, but ere he had reached it, the
distracted mother entered.

"Oh! Willy, my boy! my boy!" she exclaimed, in tones of anguish
that made the heart shudder. And she crouched down on the floor,
the moment she reached the bed whereon he lay, and pressed her
lips--oh, so tenderly and lovingly!--to his.

"Dear mother! Sweet mother! Best of mothers!" He even smiled as he
said this; and, into the face now bent over him, looked up with
glances of unutterable fondness.