"Thank God, I have always loved the Blessed Mother; she is with me now." And she murmured the sweet names of Jesus and Mary.
Then the slight breath stopped; anon it came again; again it went, and without a struggle that happy soul took flight. I closed the eyes, still wearing the lingering look of gratitude and love; I crossed the hands, and twined the beads around them, and then knelt down and said the litany for the dead. I was now preparing to leave the hospital, when the nurse came, and asked me if I would step for a minute into the next ward, just to speak to a poor old woman who seemed to be getting worse. This ward was quite full; but I noticed a bed I had seen empty in the morning, occupied; when I had finished talking to the old woman, I asked who the fresh comer was.
"Ah! sister, she's in an awful way, let her be who she may. I asked her this afternoon if she would see you, or the priest; and I declare the look of her frightened me—it was so wild and fierce. But she's a lady, I am sure; for, though the poor feet of her were bare and bleeding, the few ragged clothes she had on were of the finest, and when she is in her senses, she speaks so lady-like; but she went on in a dreadful way, and told me not to talk to her of sisters or priests, but to do her the only kindness I could, and let her die alone; so there she lies, and not one bit or drop can I get down her."
"But, nurse, I must see her, poor thing! Perhaps I can help to soothe her."
I approached the bed carefully, shading the lamp with my hand. I set the light down on the table, and drew a chair close to the bedside, and sat down upon it. Loud, heavy breathing, and quick, frightened starts, told me the patient slept. I gently drew aside the sheet, with which she had covered her face and head, and started at the picture that met my gaze. It was a woman, seemingly about two-and-twenty years of age; her face and neck were covered with a perfect mass of thick, glossy hair; it spread in its rich profusion over the pillow and the bed clothes. I took one of the tresses in my hand, and wondered at its length and softness. One small white hand was thrown above her head, and it grasped a portion of the hair so tightly that I could not move it, lest I should wake her. Before I had sat many minutes, the sleeper awoke with a loud, piercing scream, and a quick, fearful start. I laid my hands on her, to soothe her.
"Do not be frightened," I said; "you are quite safe."
"Who are you?" she replied abruptly and sharply.
"I am a Sister of Mercy, and I am anxious to assist you."
"I don't want you; go away; you only torment me." She turned from me, and concealed her face.
"I am afraid you mistake me," I said very gently; "indeed, I only wish to do you good."