"Don't speak to me, Hawkins; to be as that little child I would give all
I have."
"And to be like her you need give nothing—only your stubborn will, your skeptical doubts, and the heart that will never know rest till at the feet of Christ."
There was no answer. Presently the hands moved, the arms were raised, the eyes opened—yet, glazed though they were they turned still upward.
[Illustration]
"See!" she cried; "Oh, there is mother! and angels! and they are all singing." Her voice faltered, but the celestial brightness lingered yet on her face.
"There is no doubting the soul-triumph there," whispered Mr. Hawkins.
"It is wonderful," replied John Harvey, looking on both with awe and tenderness. "Is she gone?"
He sprang from his chair as if he would detain her; but the chest and forehead were marble now, the eyes had lost the fire of life; she must have died as she lay looking at them.
"She was always a sweet little thing," said the nurse softly.
John Harvey stood as if spell-bound. There was a touch on his arm; he started.