Amy's Death.
It is a sweet October morning, a tender mist, gray in the distance, rose-colored and golden where the rays of light strike it more directly, envelopes the landscape; the trees are decked in holiday attire—green, russet, orange and scarlet.
On a couch placed near the window reclines the meek patient sufferer. Aunt Lucy stands near, Hetty kneels beside her "baby" with a cup of beef tea trying to coax her to swallow a few spoonfuls.
"Hetty, dear, don't force me, I am not hungry." "My blessed angel do take just a few drops for your old Hetty."
Amy heeded not, her thoughts were far away. "Auntie," she remarked, "isn't that woods like a piece of Heaven? See how the trees glisten as the sun shines on their waving branches. How glorious Heaven must be when earth is so filled with beauty."
Aunt Lucy looked into the ethereal face, and unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks.
Hetty stooped over the wan little hand, and kissing it, hastened from the room, her heart bursting with grief. In the kitchen she met old Pat, his head bowed and his whole bearing showing the depth of his grief for what all now saw was inevitable.
"Hetty," said he in a hoarse whisper, "is she going?" "Oh, Pat, I feel dis is de last day we will have our angel child. Dey done telephoned for Dr. Carroll, he will be here directly."
At two o'clock the doctor told the assembled household, that but a few hours of life remained for the dear one.
At three o'clock death with "solemn steps and slow," is steadily approaching. Now her voice, which before has been scarcely above a whisper, becomes strong again, as is frequently the case in the dying, and she tries to sing in the old sweet way: "Jesus, Jesus, Dearest Lord."
It seems as though the angels were present, Heaven so fills the room.
After a moment's rest she turned her eyes on the weeping company, and said: "Don't weep for me, rather rejoice that I will soon be with Our Dear Lord and His Blessed Mother. Mamma, dear, say that beautiful prayer that ends with—'Merciful Jesus have mercy on me.'"
"Mamma, dear, you will come to me in Heaven. There will be no parting, we will walk together through the golden streets, and through the beautiful gardens forever. Come, kiss me now, darling mother!"
Then she addressed Mr. Allen, who stood with great tear-drops rolling down his face, his heart broken with sorrow.
"Dear Papa, how I love you! You have been such a loving father to me and Brother, so good to dear Mamma—Forgive my having tried your patience so often."
"Heart's dearest," answered her father, "you have never caused me a moment of trouble in all your life."
"Darling Papa you will come to me when Our Lord calls you. I know you love Him. Father Leonard will show you the true way to reach Heaven; O promise me you will follow it."
"My angel child," responded the father, "I solemnly promise." His sobs choked his utterance, but kneeling and taking his child's hand he kissed it fervently.
Exhausted by her efforts, she lay silent awhile, then turning to Bolax, she said: "Dear little Brother, never forget the promises you made to Our Lord the day of your First Holy Communion. Oh, serve Him faithfully that you may meet me in Paradise.
"Dearest Aunt Lucy, I thank you for all your years of kindness and love; oh, I know you will be there to rejoice with me.
"And Hetty dear! let me kiss the hand that nursed and tended me so faithfully."
Hetty's grief was becoming uncontrollable, so she hastened from the room lest she should unnerve the rest of the family.
Poor old Pat was not forgotten, when called to bid farewell, he managed to control himself while he knelt asking the dear child's blessing.
Here Reverend Father Leonard entered the room. Mrs. Allen lit the candles on the little altar at the foot of the bed; all withdrew for a few moments leaving Amy alone with the Priest.
When the Father was ready to administer the Holy Viaticum, every one returned to the room, each bearing a lighted candle, knelt in prayer. After receiving Our Dear Lord, the child's face became radiant; a heavenly smile lit up her countenance, she murmured: "Jesus, precious Jesus; how I love Thee! and yet—how unworthy I am!" Here she held out her hands as if beckoning to some one. "O my beloved! take me to Thyself! Jes—" The lips ceased their utterance with the sweet name half spoken. One long-drawn sigh and another angel was added to the innumerable company of the Blessed. The days that followed Amy's death were to the household painful in the extreme.
Mr. Allen was overwhelmed with grief. It was useless to try to speak to him; for two days he shut himself in his room and the Doctor could scarcely persuade him to take nourishment.
Mrs. Allen was resigned to God's will, although her heart was crushed with sorrow.
Kind neighbors came offering condolence, indeed the family had the sympathy of the whole village.
Reverend Mother Gertrude sent a letter by two of her Sisters reminding Mrs. Allen of Amy's desire to be buried under the Bed of Lilies.
"We are sure now," said the Sisters, "the dear child had a presentment of her approaching departure from this world, so Reverend Mother begs you will have the funeral from our Chapel and let the dear one rest under the Lilies of the Valley."
Reverend Father Leonard was consulted as to the advisability of accepting Mother Gertrude's gracious offer; Mrs. Allen feared her pastor might wish the funeral to take place in the parish church. "On the contrary," said the good priest, "I think no resting place could be more fitting for such a child than a grave where the rays of the Sanctuary Lamp shine out upon it through the Church windows. I shall go to St. Imelda's and ask to be allowed to celebrate the Mass, which must be what we call the 'Mass of the Angels.'"
The funeral was announced for Thursday morning, carriages were to leave the house at half-past eight, so as to reach the Convent in time for the services at half-past nine. The Chapel was draped in white, all the flowers and ornaments on the altar and the vestments were white.
Professor Renaldi's pupils, who were in the same class as Amy, presented a beautiful harp of white rosebuds, with the word "Love" formed of Forget-Me-Nots woven across the strings.
The Chapel could scarcely contain the number of people who came to pay a last tribute of love to the dear child.
The gates of the Sanctuary were left open and the casket placed in front of the altar as near the rail as possible.
During the Mass the music was almost joyous. Reverend Mother ordered this expressly so that the bereaved parents might be soothed in their grief.
Six little girls dressed in white walked beside the casket as it was borne to the grave, and now our dear, our beloved one sleeps under the Lilies, emblematic of her own pure soul.