“Come, friends, I think we had better retire and leave this child with her mother,” said the doctor.
“Bid me good-night first,” said Mrs. Helmstedt, as they all prepared to withdraw.
They all drew near her bed—Mrs. Houston nearest.
“You last, Nellie, you last, dear Nellie,” said Mrs. Helmstedt, as Mrs. Houston stooped to receive her kiss.
One by one they bade her good-night, and left the room. Mrs. Houston, by request, lingered longer.
“Come closer, Nellie—closer still—bend down,” whispered Mrs. Helmstedt, “I have one last favor to ask of you, dear Nellie. A trifle, yet I implore it. A foolish one, perhaps; for little may reck the soul, even if it survive, where or how the cast-off body lies. But do not lay me here, Nellie! Lay me at the feet of my father and mother, under the old trees at Plover’s Point. Do you promise me?”
“Yes, yes, dearest Margaret,” faltered Nellie, through her gushing tears.
“Now kiss me and go to bed. Good-night.”
Mrs. Houston left the room, and the mother and child were once more alone together.
“Are you sleepy, little Margaret?”