She stopped, and her eyes fell. She seemed almost sorry that she had said as much; for she had not forgotten that the former dream to which she alluded had caused her sisters pain, and she thought, that perhaps she should make them unhappy again, if she related her dream of the night before. But her sisters begged her to go on, and she did so.
"When I went to sleep," said she, "I was thinking of—of—what father had said to me"—and she burst into a flood of tears. Her sisters wept, too; for they well remembered that their father had come home intoxicated that night, and that he had spoken very harshly to them all, and especially to the youngest. They could not say much to console her. What could they say? Silently they wept, and by their tears and embraces they told her how deeply they sympathized with her, and how much they would do for her, if they could. When the little dreamer was able to go on, she said,
"I was thinking about this when I went to sleep. I thought I was crying, and wondering why God should let dear mother die, and leave us all alone, when I heard some one say, 'Look up,' I looked up in the sky, and all the stars were windows, and I saw through them. I saw heaven—so beautiful—so beautiful! I saw mother looking out of one of these windows, and she smiled, as she did when we brought the rose to her bed-side. I heard her call my name, and she reached her arms toward me, and said, 'You may come,' Oh, this was not like other dreams"——
"Don't think of it, dear sister; don't think of it any more," said Eliza. "You was not well last night, and I have often heard, that when people are ill, their dreams are more apt to be disturbed. But we will not say any more about it now, dear."
"No," said Maria; "we shall all feel too sad, if we do." And she made an effort to be cheerful; though tears stood in her eyes as she spoke.
"I don't know why it makes others feel sad to think of heaven," said the favorite. "I should love dearly to go there."
"But then it is so dreadful to die!"
"I know it; but mother was so happy when she died!"
"Would you be willing to leave your sisters, dear Sue?"
"No; not unless I could see my mother and Christ. Oh, I do love Christ more than all the rest of my friends! Do you think that is wrong?"