She accompanied the man to his cottage. The child, dressed only in a night-shirt, was raving furiously, and evidently in the last stage of exhaustion, nor could the doctor or her mother do anything to quiet her.
“Don’t you see,” she screamed, pointing to the wall, “there’s the Devil waiting for me? And, oh, there’s the mouth of hell where the minister said I should go! Oh, hold me, hold me, hold me!”
Beatrice walked up to her, took the thin little hands in hers, and looked her fixedly in the eyes.
“Jane,” she said. “Jane, don’t you know me?”
“Yes, Miss Granger,” she said, “I know the lesson; I will say it presently.”
Beatrice took her in her arms, and sat down on the bed. Quieter and quieter grew the child till suddenly an awful change passed over her face.
“She is dying,” whispered the doctor.
“Hold me close, hold me close!” said the child, whose senses returned before the last eclipse. “Oh, Miss Granger, I shan’t go to hell, shall I? I am afraid of hell.”
“No, love, no; you will go to heaven.”
Jane lay still awhile. Then seeing the pale lips move, Beatrice put her ear to the child’s mouth.