"Only—one," said she.
I think I cried out sharp at this, and I said, "Oh, not Jervis! Not my little Bessie!"
She didn't speak again directly, but one big tear after another came dropping fast, and her eyes kept filling up and filling up, and her hands wouldn't let mine go.
"Not Jervis!" I said again, and before I could go on she said—
"No, not your husband."
"Then—Bessie," said I; and I began to shake, like as if I had got the palsy.
"Think," said she, and she spoke soft—"think how much happier it is for your little Bessie there—there, in sweet Paradise with our Lord! Try to think of that most. Bessie will never have any more trouble to bear. She is safe for ever and ever in His keeping. Isn't that wonderful?" said she; and it did seem so. Her words took hold of me. "And by-and-by you will meet again, won't you?" said she. "It isn't very long to wait. Only a few years, and soon you will be able to feel glad, though I know how hard it is, for I have two little ones there."
Then there came up the thought of my Bessie's sweet look and loving ways, and how our home wouldn't be like home without her, and I did feel as if I couldn't bear it.
"I want to go to her," I said, and my voice sounded strange, like somebody else speaking. "I want to see her, please. Where is Bessie?"
"In Paradise, with our dear Lord," said she. "She has gone there just a little while before you."