Death, the great leveller, had entered the house, and the mountains of human distinction flowed down at his presence.
"I am come to nurse you," said Mrs.Linwood, taking my mother's pale, emaciated hand and pressing it in both her own.

"Do not look upon me as a stranger, but as a friend--a sister.

You will let me stay, will you not ?" She seemed soliciting a favor, not conferring one.
"Thank you,--bless you!" answered my mother, her large dark eyes fixed with thrilling intensity on her face.

Then she added, in a lower voice, glancing towards me, "_she_ will not be left friendless, then.

You will remember _her_ when I am gone." "Kindly, tenderly, even with a mother's care," replied Mrs.Linwood, tears suffusing her mild eyes, and testifying the sincerity of her words.
My mother laid Mrs.Linwood's hand on her heart, whose languid beating scarcely stirred the linen that covered it; then looking up to heaven, her lips moved in silent prayer.