anxious tone: "Florence." But she neither stirred
nor heeded. He spoke again: "Florence;" and the blue eyes unclosed
slowly and wearily. The doctor drew back quickly, and motioned her
father forward.

"Speak to her, Mr. Vane."

"Florence, my darling," the old man said, with inexpressible love and
tenderness sounding in his voice. His fair young daughter turned her
eyes on him; but the words she spoke were not of him, or of aught
around her. So clear and sweet they sounded, that Ester, sitting quite
across the room from her, heard them distinctly.

"I saw mother, and I saw my Savior."

Dr. Van Anden sank upon his knees, as the drooping lids closed again,
and his voice was low and tremulous:

"Father, into thy hands we commit this spirit. Thy will be done."

In a moment more all was bustle and confusion. The nurse was
thoroughly awakened; the doctor cared for the poor childless father
with the tenderness of a son; then came back to send John for help,
and to give directions concerning what was to be done.

Through it all Ester sat motionless, petrified with solemn
astonishment. Then the angel of death had _really_ been there in that
very room, and she had been "so wise in her own conceit," that she did
not know it until he had departed with the freed spirit!

Florence really _was_ sick, then--dangerously sick. The doctor had not
deceived them, had not magnified the trouble as she supposed; but it
could not be that she was dead! Dead! Why, only a few minutes ago she
was sleeping so quietly! Well, she was very quiet now. Could the heart
have ceased its beating?

Sadie's Florence dead! Poor Sadie! What would they say to her? How
_could_ they tell her?

Sitting there, Ester had some of the most solemn, self-reproachful
thoughts that she had ever known. God's angel had been present in that
room, and in what a spirit had he found this watcher?

Dr. Van Anden went quietly, promptly, from room to room, until every
thing in the suddenly stricken household was as it should be; then he
came to Ester:

"I will go over home with you now," he said, speaking low and kindly.
He seemed to under stand just how shocked she felt.

They went, in the night and darkness, across the street, saying
nothing. As the doctor applied his key to the door, Ester spoke in
low, distressed tones:

"Doctor Van Anden, I did not think--I did not dream--." Then she
stopped.

"I know," he said, kindly. "It was unexpected. _I_ thought she wo