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THE POOR RICH MAN, ETC.

and now! Do you think me very, very near death?" she added, rightly interpreting the expression of her friends' faces.

"You cannot have long to live," replied Charlotte, in a voice of the tenderest pity.

"Then why don't you send for a minister?"

"We will, if you wish it, Paulina."

"I do, I do—pray be quick!" Susan went to the door and despatched a messenger, while Paulina looked eagerly after her; but, when Susan returned to the bed, the poor creature shook her head and said, with the awful solemnity of deep conviction—"What good can he do me?—It lieth between me and my Maker!" Her lips then murmured a low, broken prayer;—suddenly stopping, she implored Lottie to pray for her. "I cannot pray," she said; "don't let me go to sleep, Susan." Susan chafed her temples and hands, while Charlotte knelt and besought pardon for the dying woman, as a confiding child asks favours from a parent she supremely loves. Her prayer expressed her faith in the compassions of God, as revealed by his son; her face shone with love and mercy, from her soul, his faint image. But poor Paulina was past all comfort. When Charlotte finished, she said, faintly—"Say it again, Lottie, I could not hear you. Come nearer, I don't see you—Give me air!—did mother speak!—no, I mean the minister!—has he come?—tell Juliet—no, not that—thank you, Susan—my God!—it's so sudden!—help me, Lottie!" And thus, uttering at intervals broken sentences, more and more incoherent, she continued almost unconscious of the ministrations of her