ay from us you bid us not to cry, that she would soon come back; and
now she has only come back to die. Nannie, I'm your own little Frank;
won't you hear me I Nannie, will you never wash my face of a Sunday
morning more? will you never comb down my hair, put the pin in my shirt
collar, and kiss me, as you used to do before we went to Mass together?"

The poor mother was so much overcome by this artless allusion to her
innocent life, involving, as it did, such a manifestation of affection,
that she wept until fairly exhausted, after which she turned her eyes up
to heaven and exclaimed, whilst her daughter's inanimate body still lay
in her arms,

"O Lord of mercy, will you not look down with pity and compassion on me
this night!"

In the course of about ten minutes after this her daughter's eyes began
to fill with those involuntary tears which betoken in females recovery
from a fit; they streamed quietly, but in torrents, down her cheek.
She gave a deep sigh, opened her eyes, looked around her, first with
astonishment, and then toward the bed with a start of horror.

"Where am I?" said she.

"You are with me, darlin'," replied the mother, kissing her lips, and
whispering, "Nannie, I forgive you--I forgive you; and whisper, your
father did before he went to death."

She smiled faintly and sorrowfully in her mother's face, and said,
"Mother, I didn't know that." After which she got up, and proceeding to
the bed, she fell upon his body, kissed his lips, and indulged in a wild
and heart-breaking wail of grief. This evidently afforded her relief,
for she now became more calm and collected.

"Mother," said she, "I must go."

"Why, sure you won't leave us, Nannie?" replied the other with
affectionate alarm.

"O, I must go," she repeated; "bring me the children till I see them
once--Frank first."

The mother accordingly brought them to her, one by one, when she stooped
down and kissed them in turn, not without bitter tears, whilst they,
poor things, were all in an uproar of sorrow. She then approached her
mother, threw herself in her arms, and again wept wildly for a time, as
did that afflicted mother along with her.

"Mother, farewell," said she at length--"farewell; think of me when I am
far away--think of your unfortunate Nannie, and let every one that hears
of my misfortune think of all the misery and all the crime that may come
from one false and unguarded step."

"O, Nannie darling," replied her mother, "don'