When I awoke from the profound slumber of childhood it was noon of the next day and the sun was shining. Doctor Conrad was lifting me out of bed, and Father Dan, who had just thrown open the window, was saying in a tremulous voice:
"Your dear mother has gone to God."
I began to cry, but he checked me and said:
"Don't call her back. She's on her way to God's beautiful Paradise after all her suffering. Let her go!"
So I lost her, my mother, my saint, my angel.
It was Easter Eve, and the church bells were ringing the Gloria.
EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
After my mother's death there was no place left for me in my father's house.
Betsy Beauty (who was now called Miss Betsy and gave herself more than ever the airs of the daughter of the family) occupied half her days with the governess who had been engaged to teach her, and the other half in driving, dressed in beautiful clothes, to the houses of the gentry round about.