Kiss me, kiss me Amy.
She took hold of Amy’s hand and tried to speak again.
What is it mother? What do you want to say?
Rol—Rol—Rolla!
Before the words were finished, Rolla sprang to the bed and placed his fore-feet on her bosom.
See, mother, Rolla is here; said Amy.
A whine, accompanied by a mild bark escaped from the dog. The mother understood by that, that the dog was there. Then taking Rolla by the fore-paw, she, with a great effort laid it in Amy’s hand. Casting her sightless eyes toward heaven, she remained motionless for a few moments, evidently in prayer. A tremor came over her. A struggle ensued.
Nearly gone, said Wilson.
Her eyes open again. Now they can see and have the expression of intelligence. A silence ensues. She speaks: