She motioned for a piece of paper—and slowly wrote in a queer, trembling hand:
"I understand, dearest, I am going—it's all right. I am happy—remember that I love you and have forgiven—rear our boy free from the curse—you know what I mean. I had rather a thousand times that he should die than this—my brooding spirit will watch and guard."
The baby kissed her sweetly and lisped:
"Good night, mamma!"
From the doorway he waved his chubby little arm and cried again:
"Night, night, mamma!"
The sun was slowly climbing the eastern hills when the end came. Its first rays streamed through the window and fell on his haggard face as he bent and pressed a kiss on the silent lips of the dead.