“I hope there is nothing serious ailing dear mamma,” Violet said rather anxiously to herself, as the carriage rolled swiftly on toward Ion; “there was really nothing in her note to indicate it, but she has never been one to complain of even a pretty serious ailment.  She is not old yet; we may hope to keep her with us for many, many years.  But then she is so good—­so ripe for heaven!” And a silent prayer went up to God that the dear mother might be spared for many years to help others on their pilgrim way, especially her children and grandchildren.  “For oh, how we need her!” was the added thought; “what could we ever do without her—­the dear, kind, loving mother to whom we carry all our troubles and perplexities, sure of comfort, the best of advice, and all the help in her power to give.  Dear, dear mamma!  Oh, I have never prized her as I ought!”

It was only the previous evening that Mrs. Travilla herself had learned that she was assailed by more than a trifling ailment.  What seemed to her but a slight one, causing discomfort, and at times quite a good deal of pain, she had been conscious of for some weeks or months, but had not thought it necessary to speak of it to anyone.

About the time of her return home, however, there had been a very decided increase in the suffering; which at length led her to confide her trouble to her cousin and family physician, Dr. Arthur Conly, and she had learned from him that it was far more serious than she had supposed; that in fact her only escape from sure and speedy death lay in submission to a difficult and dangerous surgical operation.

Arthur told her as gently and tenderly as he could—­assuring her that there was more than a possibility of a successful result—­bringing relief from her suffering and prolonging her life for many years.

His first words—­showing her ailment as so much more serious than she had ever for a moment supposed it to be—­gave her a shock at the thought of the sudden parting from all her dear ones—­father, children, and grandchildren; yet before he had finished she was entirely calm and composed.

“And what would death be but going home?” she said; “home to the mansions Jesus my Saviour has prepared for those he died to redeem, and to the dear ones gone before, there to await the coming of those who will be left behind for a little while.  Ah, it is nothing to dread or to fear, for ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth.’”

“And yet, Cousin Elsie,” Arthur returned, with ill-concealed emotion, “how illy you could be spared by any of those who know and love you.  Even I should feel it an almost heartbreaking thing to lose you out of my life, and your father, children——­”

“Yes, I know, dear cousin, and shall not hesitate to do or bear all that holds out a hope of prolonging my days here upon earth; for otherwise I should feel that I was rushing into the Master’s presence unbidden, and that without finishing the work he has given me to do here.