"There's mother and father again," she said; "they're always haunting me. I am glad they have come to wish me good-bye, though. I have been a bad daughter to them--a bad daughter--a bad daughter. I'm punished for it now. Forgive me, daddy! I think he does forgive me, his face is so kind; but it was always kind when he looked at me. I can smell the mignonette on the window-sill. And see! there's my little sister; she died yesterday. How sad she looks in her shroud! She was prettier than me. I slept with her the night before she died, and she told me to be always good. I say, Jim, don't you think little Cis is prettier than me?--she's better than me! I should like father to make me a basket coffin. Where's baby?"
Alice placed the child in her arms, and as Milly pressed it to her breast, the haggard look in her face quite passed away. She was very young--scarcely nineteen years of age: but it was better for her to die, young as she was, than live her life of shame.
"Do you know where there's a clergyman, Grif," asked Alice.
"No; what for?"
"I don't want a clergyman," gasped Milly. "Yes, my dear, I am quite sensible now. I don't want a clergyman. Your good face is better than all. Will you kiss me?"
Alice bent down and kissed her.
"Don't cry for me. I wonder why you should be here; for you know I am a bad girl, and you are a respectable woman. Give me a little drink--my throat is so dry! Oh, what a wicked life I have led! Will God forgive me, do you think?"
"Yes, dear Milly," said Alice, weeping. "God will forgive you if you ask Him."
"I do ask Him," said Milly, earnestly, but very slowly, for her voice was failing her. "Fold my hands, dear. I do ask Him, humbly. Forgive me, God!"
There was solemn silence in the room. Alice, kneeling by the bed, checked her sobs, and watched every movement in the face of the dying girl. Grif, bare-headed, stood by, in awe; his eyes were not crying, but his heart was. For Grif was very troubled. He had never prayed to God, and here in the quiet night, in the dread presence of death, the thought of his own utter wickedness and unworthiness filled him with gloom. He crept down on his knees, and lifting his hands, as if to a visible Presence, he said--"Forgive me, God!" and trembled, and cried softly to himself.