When they reached the chamber of death, little Rose had plumed her wings and was taking her flight from earth to her home in the skies. The Doctor had persuaded Gerty to lay her on the couch; and she knelt by the side, one finger closely clasped in the tiny fingers; while the violet eyes, so wishful and wondering, were fastened on the dear face upon which they had never seen a frown.
"It was the most affecting sight I ever witnessed," wrote Marion afterwards to Mr. Wallingford, "to see Gerty smiling on her treasured one, that it might not be frightened by her tears, when her heart was nigh to breaking. This passage of Scripture, 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee,' came home to me with greater force than I had ever felt it before."
Just as the child ceased to breathe. Mr. Dudley rung the bell with a loud, quick jerk and hurriedly mounted the stairs. Gertrude did not seem to hear him. Her tearless eyes were fixed on the marble countenance; her hand still grasped in the stiffening fingers.
"Good by, darling," she whispered, bending over and imprinting a long, long kiss on the cold, pale lip.
Mrs. Gilbert saw a shudder run through her frame; and took hold of her to persuade her away. She saw that the shock had been too great for the overtasked nerves; and was almost glad when with a stagger the bereaved mother fell back insensible into her arms.
Motioning to Mr. Dudley, he carried his wife from the chamber, and laid her on a bed in what she called Edward's room, where Mrs. Gilbert watched by her side, while Paul, in a fever of remorse, by turns walked the floor, and passionately kissed the cold lips of his unconscious wife.
Gerry's swoon was of so long continuance that when she revived, Marion's loving hands had prepared the body of little Rose for its final resting place. When the tiny fingers were folded, Bridget, with a fresh burst of grief, begged Miss Gilbert to place within them an exquisite rose bud, which she had expended one quarter of her week's earnings to purchase at the stall opposite.
"It's the last poor Bridget can do for ye," she sobbed, rushing from the room.
"I'd give a year of my poor life in a minute," she exclaimed afterward to Mrs. Gilbert, "if the precious angel could have been spared to her mother for a little while. Then they would both have gone together; for any one must be blind not to see the Father is preparing to take her home to himself."