Could it be that she was dying?
"Oh, darling, you may get well even yet?" cried Vi, in tones tremulous
with joy and hope.
Lily smiled, and stroked her sister's face lovingly with her little thin
white hand.
Violet was startled by its scorching heat.
"You are burning up with fever!" she exclaimed, tears gushing from her
eyes.
"Yes; but I shall soon be well," said the child clasping her sister
close; "I'm going home to the happy land to be with Jesus, Vi; oh, don't
you wish you were going too? Mamma I'm tired; please tell Vi my text."
"'And the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick; the people that dwell
therein shall be forgiven their iniquity,'" the mother repeated in a low
sweet voice.
"For Jesus' sake," softly added the dying one. "He has loved me and washed
me from my sins in his own blood."
Vi fell on her knees by the bedside, and buried her face in the clothes,
vainly trying to stifle her bursting sobs.
"Poor Vi," sighed Lily. "Mamma, comfort her."
Mamma drew the weeper to her bosom, and spoke tenderly to her of the
loving Saviour and the home he has gone to prepare for his people.
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