“How are you now, dear? How do you feel?” asked the young man anxiously; and Miggles struggled bravely to reply.
“Quite—well!” said the feeble voice; and after a moment’s pause—“And very happy!”
After that she sank ever deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, while the watchers sat on either side, watching the still face.
It was just as the clock struck five, and the sun passing beyond the barrier of the cliff left the little room grey and dull, that with a movement of surprise, as if wakened by the touch of an invisible hand, Miggles suddenly lifted her lids and gazed around. The heavy, bulging cheeks had wasted away, and the eyes, which in health had appeared small and insignificant, now stared out, large and wide from the hollow sockets. As she looked, the first surprise was superseded by a great and incredulous joy. She turned her head from side to side, the faint smile deepening to rapture, while her panting lips gasped out the same word—once, a second time, and again a third:
“Angels! Angels! Angels!”
The two who looked on bowed their heads, and were still. To them it was a small, dull room, prosaic in furnishing, grey, with the shadow of night and death, but Miggles’s opening eyes beheld therein the company of saints.
Piers and the faithful maid turned Vanna out of the room. She had done enough, they said. It was not for her to be pained by the last sad rites. She allowed herself to be led on to the little landing; but when Piers tried to lead her downstairs she refused to move. Remembrance had come to her of Miggles’s request with respect to the keys, and the search which was to be made “at once.” She had no idea what she was to find as she knelt beside that bottom drawer, while Piers stood watchfully at her side; it was the impulse of obedience pure and simple which guided her movements. The first glance brought no illumination, for a strip of muslin hid the contents from view. With its removal came the scent of lavender, and there, neatly ranged in order, lay a pair of fine linen sheets with pillow cases to match, a nightgown, and a cap with a border of pleated lace, its muslin strings neatly folded and secured in place with a pin.
Miggles’s burial clothes! prepared long since with her own hands, and put aside to “save trouble” to those left behind. Vanna bowed her head, and burst into a passion of tears.