In time she shook the fever off, but it left her dreadfully weak, and quite unfit to face the trial before her.
I think she knew that she was going to die; she always spoke of my future, never of _our_ future.

It is impossible for me to tell how sweet she was; how gentle, how patient and resigned.

Nor, indeed, do I wish to tell it, it is too sad.

But this I will say, I believe that if ever a woman drew near to perfection while yet living on the earth, Stella Quatermain did so.
The fatal hour drew on.

My boy Harry was born, and his mother lived to kiss and bless him.