CHAPTER II.

Mr. Astley's last words to Theodora-The meaning of her nameThe sudden ending-The crisis of Theodora's life.

H, my child, you have come at last!' said Mr. Astley wearily, as Theodora entered his room. 'I have been longing so for you, dear.'

'The children, dear papa-' commenced Theodora. But he interrupted her: 'I know, I know you could not come before. I know you have to attend to everything, my dear, or the house would not hold together.'

Theodora said nothing. Here was another, and this time the person she loved and revered best in the world, helping her to be self-sufficient. So she sat, holding her father's hand in hers, and thinking of all the doctor had said. It was still so strange, this secret of which she alone was possessed, that she could only think of it as so many words; there was no reality in it. Her mother was reclining half asleep in a chair, and every now and then Mr. Astley glanced towards her; and as he did so,

Theodora could not help observing the look of pity in his face.

'My dear,' said he, after a while, 'I wish you would go into the air for a little time, now that Theo is here; she can do all I wish for me, you look so tired.'

'I think I had best perhaps go and see after baby,' said Mrs. Astley, he seems to be crying a great deal;' and she left the room.

No sooner was she gone than Mr. Astley said—

'Theo, my child, I want to speak to you quietly. Perhaps you may have guessed before now that I am seriously ill. I see you know it,' as her eyes met his. 'I have known it for a long while past. You are very young, my dear little girl, to be left in the position in which you will be; but you are more thoughtful than many girls of your age. Your dear mother, as you know, is not strong, and incapable of much exertion. I look to you chiefly, Theo.' He stopped, for she gave a sob; then he went on, I could wish you had been born a boy for your own sake, my child. I must speak of this to you, although it wrings my heart to pain you so. Theodora, remember the meaning of your name! Be God's gift to those who will look up to you.'

By this time she was on her knees by his bedside, sobbing violently; but it was only for a few minutes.

'Forgive me, dear papa! darling papa!' she said; 'I did try not to do it; but I should have choked if I had not cried. I will not cry any more; I am so sorry. I promise I will cry no more; but, papa, I love you so.'

Theodora and her Mother.

9

'I know you do, my child, and it is because you love me that you will remember my last words to you. It will not be long before you will have to put them in practice, for I do not think I shall live many days more, Theo. You will not forget the lessons I have tried to teach you, Theo; I am too weak to repeat them now.'

Theodora knew well to what lessons her father alluded, and she answered 'Yes;' but further words on the part of either were put a stop to by an uproar below stairs, and Mr. Astley begged her to go and inquire the cause.

'No, I will not consent to it, I will not hear of it,' were the words which reached her as she ran down the staircase to the dining-room.

'Theodora,' said her mother to her as she entered, 'what business had you to consent to baby being taken to Mrs. Hailes? Is it likely that I should allow baby to go? I consider your conduct very impertinent.'

'Mr. Morgan thought that all the children had better go for a time, mamma,' Theodora answered. 'He says that the house must be kept quiet.'

'Absurd,' said Mrs. Astley; 'your father's illness is not one likely to be increased by any noise the children might make. It is not as if it was fever, or anything dangerous.' 'Papa is very ill,' said Theodora.

'What do you mean?' asked her mother. 'What do you know about it? Who has said anything to you? It is not likely that you should know better than I do, Theodora. What do you mean by upsetting me in this way, as if I had not trouble enough already?'

'I think, mamma, that you would be saved a great deal of trouble, if you would let baby go with the other children. You have plenty to do without looking after him.'

'I shall not let him go. I don't see what excuse you and Mr. Morgan have for settling such sort of things behind my back, without reference to me.'

'It was

'There was nothing settled,' said Theodora. only proposed; and I agreed with Mr. Morgan that it would be a good thing.'

'You take a great deal too much upon yourself, Theodora,' said Mrs. Astley in a displeased tone. So the baby, so-called, remained at home to tyrannize over the household; and Theodora began debating in her own mind whether she had best tell her mother of her father's danger. Mr. Morgan had said nothing about it, and neither had her father; so she waited in hopes of another opportunity of speaking to him alone, before she should acquaint her mother with a fact which, she knew, would elicit from her such uncontrolled grief as would, without doubt, agitate the dying man also. But that opportunity never came. Mr. Astley was nearer death than Mr. Morgan or he himself thought. Less than four-andtwenty hours after Theodora's interview with her father, before she had hardly become accustomed to the idea that he must leave her, the reality came,—so suddenly, there was but time to call her mother, who was, of course, engaged in quieting the baby, and to send a messenger for the doctor, when the last hurried breath subsided into

Mrs. Astley's Grief.

I I

Then his wife gave

floor; and it was

a sigh, and Mr. Astley lay dead. one piercing scream, and fell to the some minutes before she could be restored. As she opened her eyes, they rested upon Theodora. knew of his danger,' she said, 'you must have known! It was cruel, heartless, to let me be so taken by surprise.'

'You

'Dear mamma, I hardly knew what to do, I was so afraid of agitating you. I did not think it would be so soon. I wish I had told you,' said Theodora. 'It must have been a fearful shock.'

tears.

'A fearful shock!' echoed Mrs. Astley, bursting into 'How little you can understand the feelings of a warm-hearted person! You never had much feeling, Theodora. You have nearly killed your mother by your want of thought.'

It was Mrs. Astley's idea, and had been always, that Theodora was not a girl of strong affection. She had never been able to understand the self-control which was natural to her daughter, and which she had not been able to acquire herself; and there had always been a certain degree of jealousy in the mind of Mrs. Astley at Theodora's evident partiality for her father. She imagined that Theodora had not much love for herself; and now, when all the girl's sympathy was alive on behalf of her mother in her bereavement and distress, and made warmer by Mrs. Astley's helplessness, which appealed to Theodora's stronger character, it did seem hard that all her mother's affection seemed to be lavished upon the younger children, and Theodora was almost left alone.