Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Next morning little Mrs. Broughton was so much weaker that there was no question whether or not she should make another effort and get up. All she could do was to lie still, secretly hugging to her breast the fragments of Mattie's letter. She had not slept all night, she was worn out, but she was not unhappy; it was impossible for her to be that, when her loving mind pictured her Dick and his bride upon their honeymoon.
