So insidious was her disease, that, when summoned to her sick bed, Frank found no skill could save her. He therefore endeavored to direct her to the great Physician, to cure the disease of her soul.
"What was the state of her mind at that time?" I asked.
"Very rebellious. She was unwilling to hear a word of discouragement, and talked constantly of pleasures and parties, in which her mother had allowed her to mingle. She was a very handsome girl, lively and agreeable in conversation, and had excited unusual attention for one so young."
"How soon did she become reconciled to death? She seems now to look forward to it, as the consummation of her hopes and joys."
"Not for many months; but she will give you an account of the change in her feelings. I hope you will soon see her again; she has not long to stay with us."
As we passed the house on our return, we noticed Mrs. Leighton at the door watching for us. Frank, thinking she wished to call him, sprang from the carriage. But she only put into his hand a little bouquet, saying in a suppressed voice, "Caroline," at the same time waving her hand that it was intended for me. I was very much affected at the simple gift, and sent my thanks to the sweet girl. There was exquisite taste in the selection—a moss rose bud—a white rose half blown, with dark green myrtle leaves,—and a sprig of mignonette.
"It must have been hard for her," I said, "to give up this beautiful earth, she is so fond of flowers and everything tasteful."
"Ah! but she gains heaven," was Frank's reply. This suggested to me the following lines from a favorite poet, which I repeated to my husband.
"Once when I look'd along the laughing earth,
Up the blue heavens, and through the middle air,