“A little while longer, only a little while.”
“I know what the garland means now, mamma; I am going to die,”
“Oh no! my dear, long lost pet, not yet, not yet. I cannot spare you, now you have come back to me. Stay with me a little while—just a little while. You are so very dear to me.”
Who shall say what agony of supplication in that low wail of entreaty? Who shall fathom its intensity?
“But you will come too, mamma?” said the weak voice, now grown very weak and feeble. “You have cried so much, your garland must be nearly ready.” [[242]]
A great sob, which shook the tall, shapely figure like a reed, was the only answer. She raised her head at length, and the eyes of mother and child met.
“Oh, when I get there, I’ll prepare your garland, mamma,” came the faint voice, almost in a whisper now.
For a moment there was a wild light in the poor mother’s eyes. The words appeared to stir some old memory in her heart. She looked into the peaceful face of her dying child, and the voice became more calm and steady.
“It is very hard to part, my darling, very hard; but I will try to bear it all, so that tears of joy may mingle with tears of sorrow in my wreath of immortality.”
The words fell on an ear that heard them not. There was a look on the child’s face that caused the mother to rush forward and throw her arms about the poor weak clay, as if to stay the departing spirit in its flight.