It seemed very strange to the child, as she lay back in the bed, to learn the early history of her own life; how she had been stolen away when she was only a wee toddler; how her brother, just one year older than herself, had pined and died for his sister; how the poor mother, with all her grand and fashionable friends, had felt herself deserted, and had hardened her heart against all good influences, until the cry of the frightened little outcast had reached and softened it.
There were long, weary watchings by the couch of the sufferer, filled with anxiety and suspense. For the mother who had found her lost one had a vague dread haunting her that her darling might be snatched ruthlessly from her a second time, and by a foe more terrible than a kidnapper. The child’s sleep was filled with dreams of angels. They carried her again and again to that rocky chamber where hung the garlands; and each time she found her own all ablaze with tears of joy, and nearly finished.
On one occasion she stretched forth her hand to take it, but the fairy came up to her and said,—
“Not yet, my dear; you shall wear it very soon.”
The child related these dreams to her mother, who answered nothing, but fell down upon her [[241]]knees and prayed that the garland should not be completed yet awhile.
Nellie could not understand all this, but one night she felt very weak and cold. Her mother was seated by the bedside gazing with greedy eyes at the poor, worn, pinched-up little face. There were others in the room, but the patient now saw only her mother.
“Dear mamma!”
“What is it, my darling?”
“I have seen the garlands again. Mine is finished at last.”
The face of the lady grew very pale. She hid her weeping eyes and muttered,—