r sweet
source, and sacred because her child's hand had touched them.

At last came that kindly friend who brings healing and peace to all.
The lights were burning low. In the solemn hush which precedes the dawn
vague figures flitted soundless along the dim hall and gathered silent
and awed in Helen's chamber, and grouped themselves about her bed, for
a warning had gone forth, and they knew. The dying girl lay with closed
lids, and unconscious, the drapery upon her breast faintly rising and
falling as her wasting life ebbed away. At intervals a sigh or a muffled
sob broke upon the stillness. The same haunting thought was in all minds
there: the pity of this death, the going out into the great darkness,
and the mother not here to help and hearten and bless.

Helen stirred; her hands began to grope wistfully about as if they
sought something--she had been blind some hours. The end was come; all
knew it. With a great sob Hester gathered her to her breast, crying,
"Oh, my child, my darling!" A rapturous light broke in the dying girl's
face, for it was mercifully vouchsafed her to mistake those sheltering
arms for another's; and she went to her rest murmuring, "Oh, mamma, I am
so happy--I longed for you--now I can die."

Two hours later Hester made her report. The mother asked:

"How is it with the child?"

"She is well."

CHAPTER VII

A sheaf of white crape and black was hung upon the door of the house,
and there it swayed and rustled in the wind and whispered its tidings.
At noon the preparation of the dead was finished, and in the coffin lay
the fair young form, beautiful, and in the sweet face a great peace. Two
mourners sat by it, grieving and worshipping--Hannah and the black woman
Tilly. Hester came, and she was trembling, for a great trouble was upon
her spirit. She said:

"She asks for a note."

Hannah's face blanched. She had not thought of this; it had seemed that
that pathetic service was ended. But she realized now that that could
not be. For a little while the two women stood looking into each other's
face, with vacant eyes; then Hannah said:

"There is no way out of it--she must have it; she will suspect, else."

"And she would find out."

"Yes. It would break her heart." She looked at the dead face, and her
eyes filled. "I will write it," she said.

Hester carried it. The closing line said:

"Darling Mousie, dear sweet mother, we shall soon be together again. Is
not that good news? A