"Nellie—my little one—weep not so bitterly, I entreat you; you know not how it pains me."
"How can I help it, mother?" sobbed the girl, unable to conceal the thought uppermost in her own mind. "You suffer, and the lowest scullion in the kitchen of Netterville would have deemed herself ill-used in such poverty as this!"
"Is that all, my child?" said her mother, with a faint smile. "Nay, dear Nellie, you may believe me, that, to a soul which feels itself within an hour of eternity, it is of little moment whether straw or satin support the body it is leaving. Eternity! yes, eternity!" she murmured to herself "Alas! alas! how little do we realize in the short days of time the awful significance of that word, for ever!
"Mother, you are not afraid!" burst from Nellie's lips, a new and hitherto unthought-of anxiety rushing to her mind.
"Afraid!" Mrs. Netterville echoed the expression with a smile. "No, my daughter, by the grace of God and goodness of Our Lady I am not afraid. Nevertheless eternity, with its ministering angel Death, are awful things to look on, Nellie, and if I could smile at aught which makes you weep, it would be to think that such a silly grievance as a straw pallet could add to their awfulness in your eyes."
"Not to their awfulness, mother," Nellie sobbed, "but to their sorrow; it is such a pain to see you comfortless."
"And has no one else been comfortless in death?" Mrs. Netterville whispered almost reproachfully. "Only consider, Nellie, this straw bed which you lament so bitterly is a very couch of down compared to His, when he laid him down upon the hard wood of the cross to die."
"Mother, forgive me; I never thought of that," said Nellie humbly. "I only thought of your discomfort."
"Think of nothing now, dear Nellie, but this one word of Scripture, 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord;' and hope and pray that it may be so with me to-night. Now, dry your eyes and listen, for I have much to say, and but little time left wherein to say it. Dry your eyes, for I cannot bear to see you weeping thus. Your tears have almost the power to make me repine at death."
The last hint was sufficient. Nellie resolutely checked her tears, and laid her head down on her mother's pillow, in order that the latter might speak to her with less danger of fatigue.