May opened the door, and entered softly.  She went towards the bed, and saw that the mysterious and awful change, which tells that the inexorable decree is gone forth, and the “arrow fastened,” was fast settling on old Mabel’s features.  Yet there was nothing uncouth or grotesque in that shrivelled and swarthy face, because FAITH, which leads death captive, had shed over them a supernatural calm, which ennobled them with a solemn sweetness.  Her poor old hand, so long withered and helpless, dropped beside her; the other, around which her rosary was wrapped, lay on her breast.  May took off her bonnet and scarf, and knelt down to say the dolorous mysteries of the rosary.  “Remember, oh most loving Mother, by these, thy own dolors, the soul of thy poor servant, who will soon be engaged in her last earthly conflict.  Rescue, oh Mother of Sorrows, through thy intercession, and the bitter passion and death of thy Divine Son, from the foes who lie in wait for her soul, and conduct her under thy safeguard to eternal light and peace.”  Thus prayed the Christian maiden by the dying slave; caste, race, and fetters were falling together into the deep abyss of death.  She would soon know the glorious freedom of one of the heirs of Christ.

“Oh, lady! oh, beautiful missis! this is a mean place for your crowned head and shining robes to come into.  And who are those beside you, glorious and fair?” murmured the old woman, suddenly stretching out both arms towards the door, and looking earnestly beyond May at something unseen.

“Queen of Heaven! how is it that you come to me?  I am not worthy to lift my eyes to yours, yet you are here,” she continued, while an awe, unspeakable and sweet, fell on May, who did not move.

“To deliver my soul, and conduct me to the feet of your Divine Son?” she said, after a short pause, as if some one had answered her, and she repeated the words.

“Oh grace! oh splendor! oh sweetness! oh clemency! oh hope!” she exclaimed.  “If I could, I would be worthy of such love—­I would spread gold and precious things at your feet; but I am only a poor old negro, covered with patches and shreds.  But fill my heart with all the love it can hold, and take that—­it’s all I’ve got to offer.”  Again, as if listening, she paused, then, with a smile of rapture, cried out, “Love Jesus! love Mary!  Oh, Jesus! oh, Mary! my soul is filled with Jesus and Mary!” Then her eyes closed, her hands sunk down, and she seemed to sleep again.

“Was it a vision?  Was it a dream?” thought May; “or had she been in the presence of MARY and the angels of heaven?  Had they surrounded her, as she watched and prayed by the side of the dying woman?  She could not tell, but she felt that the air had been stirred by heavenly visitants.  Ere long old Mabel awoke, and looked wildly and eagerly around her; then her eyes settled on May’s countenance.

“How do you feel, Aunt Mabel, now?” she asked, in a low voice.