C. Mother, are you there? it is so dark I cannot see you.
M. I am here, sitting by the bed, my son.
C. The fire is out, and the candle is just going out; may I open the shutter a little way, so that I can see the baby, mother? I won’t wake her.
M. She is not asleep, my dear boy. But what made you wake at day-break?
C. I kept thinking of Susan when I was asleep, mother. What makes her so still? is the pain better?
M. It is all gone, Charles; she will never feel it again; open the shutters wide and come here.
C. O, mother, mother! (burying his face in her lap,) I do not wish to look at her.
M. What is the matter, Charles? tell me.
C. She is dead—she is dead! the tears keep rolling down your cheeks—and she is lying just like my little canary bird—and I do believe she is dead!
M. Yes! my baby is dead, Charles! and—