“Mother,” said the child, “I am going to Heaven, say a prayer for me.”  She essayed to pray, but could not, her lips moved, but utterance was denied to her.

“I cannot pray, darling,” she replied, “prayer is denied to me.”

The child asked no more, for she saw her mother’s inability to comply with her wishes.

The little group remained in the same position until the setting sun gleamed through the window, and shed a bright ray across the bed.  Not a sound was heard, save the ticking of the old fashioned clock on the mantle piece, as its hands slowly marked the fleeting minutes.  The eyes of the dying child had been closed at the time, but as the sunlight shot across her face she opened them, and looked up into her mother’s face.

“Open the window, granny,” she said.

The old woman opened it, and as she did so, the round red glare of the sun was revealed, while the aroma of thousands wild flowers that grew beneath the window, entered the room, and floated its perfume on the autumn air.

“Mother,” said the dying child.

Mrs. Wentworth looked down upon her child.

“What is it darling,” she asked.

“Let brother kiss me,” she requested.

Her little brother was lifted up and held over her.  She pressed a soft kiss upon his lips.

“Good-bye, granny,” she said, holding out her hand to the negro.

The old woman seized it, and the tears fell faster, on the bed than they had hitherto done.  Her humble heart was touched at the simple, yet unfearing conduct of the child.

“Mother, kiss me,” she continued.  “Do not be sad,” she added, observing her mother’s pale and ghastly countenance.  “I am going to a world where no one is sick, and no one knows want.”

Stooping over her dying child, Mrs. Wentworth complied with Ella’s request, and pressed her brow in a long and earnest kiss.  She had not spoken a word from the time her child requested the old woman to open the window, but she had never for an instant, ceased looking on the features of her dying daughter, and she saw that the film was fast gathering on her eyes.

After her mother had kissed her, Ella remained silent for several minutes, when suddenly starting, she exclaimed:  “I see them, mother!  I see them!  See the Angels coming for me—­Heaven—­mother—­Angels!” A bright smile lit her features, the half-opened eyes lit up with the last fires of life; then as they faded away, her limbs relaxed, and still gazing on her mother’s face, the breath left the body.

There was a rush as of wind through the window, but it was the Angels, who were bearing the child’s spirit to a brighter and a better world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.

THE INTRUSION.

As soon as the breath had left her child’s body, Mrs. Wentworth removed the corpse from her lap and laid it on the bed; than standing aside of it, gazed upon all that remained of her little daughter.  Not a tear, not a sigh, not a groan denoted that she felt any grief at her bereavement.  Except a nervous twitching of her mouth, her features wore a cold and rigid appearance, and her eye looked dull and glassy.  She spoke not a word to those around her who yet lived.  Her little boy was unnoticed, no other object but the dead body appeared to meet her view.