When she got there, she found Bessy lying on the settle, moved close to the fire, though the day was sultry and oppressive. She was laid down quite flat, as if resting languidly after some paroxysm of pain. Margaret felt sure she ought to have the greater freedom of breathing which a more sitting posture would procure; and, without a word, she raised her up, and so arranged the pillows, that Bessy was more at ease, though very languid.
"I thought I should na' ha' seen yo' again," said she, at last, looking wistfully in Margaret's face.
"I'm afraid you're much worse. But I could not have come yesterday, my mother was so ill--for many reasons," said Margaret, colouring.
"Yo'd m'appen think I went beyond my place in sending Mary for yo'. But the wraglin' and the loud voices had just torn me to pieces, and I thought when father left, oh! if I could just hear her voice, reading me some words o' peace and promise, I could die away into the silence and rest o' God, just as a baby is hushed up to sleep by its mother's lullaby."
"Shall I read you a chapter, now?"

When she got there, she found Bessy lying on the settle close to the fire, though the day was warm and oppressive. She was laid down flat, as if resting after some paroxysm of pain. Margaret felt sure she would breathe more easily in a sitting posture; and she raised her up, and arranged the pillows, until Bessy was more at ease, though very languid.
'I thought I should na' ha' seen yo' again,' said she, wistfully.
'I'm afraid you're much worse. But I could not come yesterday, my mother was so ill - and other reasons,' said Margaret, colouring.
'Yo' may think I went beyond my place in sending Mary for yo'. But the wranglin' and the loud voices had just torn me to pieces, and when father left, I thought oh! if I could just hear her voice, reading me some words o' peace, I could die away into the silence o' God, like a babby is hushed to sleep by its mother's lullaby.'
'Shall I read you a chapter, now?'
