“Lie still, darlin’,” the old woman answered.  “Your mammy will come back directly.”

The child lay still for several minutes, but her mother came not and she felt that before many hours she would cease to live.

“Look again, granny, and see if mother is coming,” she again requested, and in a fainter tone.

The old woman looked out once more, but still there was no sign of Mrs. Wentworth.

“Neber mind, darlin’ your mammy will cum directly,” she said, and then added.  “Let me know what you want and I will git it for you.”

“I don’t want anything, granny,” Ella answered, and remained silent for a moment, when she continued:  “Granny aint I going to die?”

The old negro looked at her for a moment, and a tear stole down her withered features.  She could not answer, for ignorant and uneducated as she was, the signs which betoken the parting of the soul from the body, were too apparent, not to be easily recognized.

“Poh chile,” she muttered, as she turned her head and brushed away the falling tear.

“Answer me, granny,” said Ella.  “I am not afraid to die, but I would like to bid mother good-bye, before I went to Heaven.”

“Don’t tink of sich tings chile’” observed the old woman.  “You is sick now only; lie still and you will soon see your mother.”

The time sped swiftly, but to the dying child it seemed an age.  She lay there; her life breath ebbing fast, waiting for her mother, that she may die in her arms.  Angels filled the lowly cabin, and held their outstretched arms to receive the spirit of a sinless babe, as soon as it would leave the mortal clay it animated.  Soon, soon would it have been borne on high, for the rattle in the child’s throat had almost commenced, when a hurried footstep was heard at the door, and Mrs. Wentworth, pale and tired entered the room.

The hand of Death was stayed for awhile, for the presence of the mother started anew the arteries of life, and the blood once more rushed to the cheeks of the dying.  Ella held out her arms as her mother approached her, with some medicine in her hand.  As she gazed upon her child, Mrs. Wentworth started back, and uttered a faint exclamation of anguish.  She saw the worst at a glance, and placing aside the medicine, she seized her child’s extended hands, and bending over her, pressed her darling daughter to her heart.

“Here aunty,” she said, as soon us she had released Ella, “Here is some money, run and call a physician at once.”

The old negro took the money and moved off.

“Tell him to come instantly,” she called out after the negro.  “It is a matter of life and death, and there is no time to lose.”

“Too late, too late! poor people,” said the old woman, as she hurried on her mission of mercy.

It was too late.  No science on earth could save Ella from death, and none on high save the Infinite Power, but He knew not of it.  His eyes were still turned away from the Soldier’s Wife and her children.