Part 6 (1/2)

But all emotion was instantly repressed, and quietly as ever came the answer--

”Certainly, my child, I love you all. But lie down now, and take some rest. You have been dreaming.”

”'Twas such a happy dream,” murmured the patient little sufferer, as obedient to her mother's words she again closed her eyes, and lay motionless upon her pillow. Once more she slept, and a sweet smile beamed upon her countenance, and her lips moved as if about to speak. The watchful mother bent over her.

”Kiss me again, dear mother,” lisped the slumberer. ”Call me your dear little Eva.”

None could tell the workings of that stricken heart, as hour after hour the mother watched by her sleeping child; but the dawn of morning found her still the same; statue-like as marble, that once speaking face reflected not the fires within.

Day after day pa.s.sed on, and it was evident that the spirit of the innocent child would soon rejoice in its heavenly home.

She could no longer raise her wasted little form from the bed of pain, but still her deep blue eyes gazed lovingly upon those around her, and her soft voice spoke of patience and submission.

The last hour drew near, and the little sufferer lay in her mother's arms. The destroyer claimed but the frail earthly covering, and even now the immortal soul shone forth in its heavenly brightness.

”Am I not going to my Father in Heaven?” she whispered, as she gazed earnestly upon her mother's face.

”Yes, dearest, yes,” was the almost inaudible reply.

”And will the good angels watch over me, and be to me as a mother?”

again asked the child.

”Far, far better than any earthly parent, my dear one.”

A radiant smile illumined the countenance of the dying child. The fond words of her mother were sweet music to her ear.

The father approached, and bent over her.

”My little Eva,” he whispered, ”will you not speak to me?”

”I love you, dear father,” was the earnest answer, ”and when I am in Heaven I will pray for you, and for my poor mother;” and again those speaking eyes were riveted upon the mother's face, as if she would read her inmost griefs.

The physician entered, and, in the vain hope of prolonging life, judged it necessary to make some external applications to relieve the difficulty of breathing, which was fast increasing. The pain was borne without a murmur.

”Do I not try to be patient, mother?” whispered that little voice.

”Yes, darling, you are a dear, patient, good little girl.”

An expression of happiness, amounting almost to rapture, beamed in Eva's face, at these words of unqualified praise.

”Oh, mother! dear, dear mother,” she exclaimed, ”will you not always call your little Eva your dear, good little girl? Oh, I will try to be so very good if you will. My heart is so glad now,” and with the strength produced by the sudden excitement, she clasped her feeble arms about her mother's neck.

”Her mind begins to wander,” whispered the physician to the father; but there was no reply. A sudden light had broken upon that stern man, and motionless he stood, and listened to the words of his dying child.

But she had already sunk back in an apparent slumber, and hour after hour those calm but agonized parents sat watching by her side, at times almost believing that the spirit had indeed gone, so deep was the repose of that last earthly slumber.

At length she aroused, and with the same beautiful smile which had played upon her features when she sunk to rest, again exclaimed,

”I am so very happy, dear mother; will you call me your good little Eva once more?”