Violet kissed her also, and Lulu, half opening her sleepy eyes, murmured, "Mamma Vi you're very good and kind," and with the last word was fast asleep again.
Mrs. Elsie Travilla rose earlier the next morning than her wont,—a vague uneasiness oppressing her in regard to her aged nurse,—and waiting only to don dressing-gown and slippers went softly to Aunt Chloe's bedside; but finding her sleeping peacefully, she returned as quietly as she had come, thinking to pay another visit before descending to the breakfast-room.
Only a few minutes had passed, however, when the little maid Betty came rushing unceremoniously in, her eyes wild with affright. "Missus, missus," she cried, "suffin de mattah wid ole Aunt Chloe; she—"
Elsie waited to hear no more, but pushing past the child, flew to the rescue.
But one glance at the aged face told her that no human help could avail; the seal of death was on it.
A great wave of sorrow swept over her at the sight, but she was outwardly calm and composed as, taking the cold hand in hers, she asked, "Dear mammy, is it peace?"
"Yes, chile, yes," came in feeble yet assured accents from the dying lips; "an' I's almos' dar; a po' ole sinnah saved by grace. Good-by, honey; we's meet again at de Master's feet, neber to part mo mo'!"
One or two long-drawn gasping breaths followed and the aged pilgrim had entered into rest.
At the same instant a strong arm was passed round Elsie's waist, while a manly voice said tenderly, "We will not grieve for her, dear daughter, for all her pains, all her troubles are over, and she has been gathered home like a shock of corn fully ripe."
"Yes, dear father, but let me weep a little; not for her, but for myself," Elsie said, suffering him to draw her head to a resting-place upon his breast.