"He is calling his mamma," repeated Mercy, wistfully, "and, oh, he seems such a long way off!"
Once again the little lips moved.
"He is calling me," said Mercy, listening intently; and she grew restless and excited. "He is going away. I can hear him. He is far off. Ralphie, Ralphie!" She had lifted the child up to her face. "Ralphie, Ralphie!" she cried.
"Give me the baby, Mercy," said Greta.
But the mother clung to it with a convulsive grasp.
"Ralphie, Ralphie, Ralphie!..."
There was a sudden flash of some white thing. In an instant the bandage had fallen from Mercy's head, and she was peering down into the child's face with wild eyes.
"Ralphie, Ralphie!... Hugh!" she cried.
The mother had seen her babe at last, and in that instant she had recognized the features of its father.
At the next moment the angel of God passed through that troubled house, and the child lay dead at the mother's breast.