"Sweet, purty little one," she went on, with tears running down her
cheeks, and she turned to the mother--"Thank God, you!" she exclaimed,
with sudden strength and firmness in her voice, that was yet thrilled
with emotion; "from sorrowin' and from pain forevermore, the Lord has
took His lamb!"
Ay, life's chain of dewy morning flowers was broken! The baby fingers had
dropped those purple fragments without grief, now, or dismay--only the
peace of some sweet unfolding mystery over the veiled blue eyes!
Still, she seemed to me asleep--only asleep. I felt no shrinking from the
dead child in my arms. When they took her away from me and laid her on
the bed, I looked at her tranquil face, and the mother's passionate grief
seemed out of place. Why should one wish to wake another from such
repose? I could not comprehend the mother's aching sense of loss. But
later, when we heard the sound of wheels and saw Captain Sartell and the
doctor driving very fast up the lane, I went down the stairs and passed
out before them. I could not bear to watch the strong man's face when he
should find his baby dead.
Little Bess was buried under the lilac blossoms.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340