"I think God has heard our prayers and that He will grant us the favor of knowing that their precious dust is spared to us. Still, heaven is as easy to reach from the river as from the dry land; we must remember that. Oh, Laura, look!"
A little procession was coming in sight; they bore one body on their shoulders; as they drew near, the sound of heavy boots fell like footsteps on their hearts.
"It is our mother," said Frank, who had been all day by the side of the river. "Look!"
He removed the covering from her face, and there she lay, the last heroic purpose written there, the eyes closed, the attitude one of perfect rest.
"Let us give thanks!" said Cyril Heath.
They knelt around her, but he could not master his voice, and it failed him; Frank tried, and broke down. Then a woman's gentle, calm tones were heard; gentle and calm, but strong and victorious; they almost saw the gates of heaven opened, and the triumphant entrance of a glad and glorified spirit into the presence of Christ.
Laura's tears came now in floods; as they rose from their knees she threw her arms around Belle, and said:
"You are on the wing; we shall lose you next!"
"You are mistaken," Belle said, quietly.