The two domestics had retired, and Mrs.
Wilkinson was alone with her sick child.

Ella's moan of suffering came on her ear the instant she re-entered the room, and she stepped quickly to the crib, and bent over to look into its face.

The cheeks of the child were flushed with fever to a bright crimson, and she was moving her head from side to side, and working her lips as if there was something in her mouth.

Slight twitching motions of the arms and hands were also noticed by the mother.

Her eyes were partly open.
"Will Ella have a drink of water ?" said Mrs.Wilkinson, placing her hand under the child's head, and slightly raising it from the pillow.
But Ella did not seem to hear.
"Say--love, will you have some water ?" There was no sign that her words reached the child's ears.
A deeper shade of trouble than that which already rested on the mother's face glanced over it.
"Ella! Ella!" Mrs.Wilkinson slightly shook the child.
The only response was the muttering of some incoherent words, and a continued moaning as if pain were disturbing her sleep.
The mother now bent low over her child, and eagerly marked the expression of her face and the character of her breathing.