What prayer could Nellie say at such a moment? An orphan already by the loss of her father, she was about to be doubly orphaned in her mother's death, and her thoughts turned naturally and spontaneously toward that other Parent whose home is heaven, and who, Father as he is to each of us, has pledged himself to be so in a yet more especial and individual manner to the fatherless of his earthly kingdom.
The words of the "Our Father" seemed to rise unbidden to her lips.
"Our Father who art in heaven."
"Who art in heaven," her mother repeated after her; and then came a pause of sweet, and solemn meditation.
"Thy kingdom come," Nellie once more found voice to say. Mrs. Netterville had ever kept the desire of that kingdom in her heart of hearts. Surely he was now calling her to enjoy it in eternity! So Nellie thought, and the thought gave her strength and courage to go on.
"Thy will be done!"—that will which was calling her last parent from her side. Nellie sobbed aloud as she uttered the words, but Mrs. Netterville took them up, and, in a voice of ineffable love and sweetness, kept repeating over and over again, as if she never could weary of the sentiment.
"Thy will be done; thy will—thy will—thy will, ever merciful and to be adored—thy will, my God, my Father, and my Redeemer—thy will, not mine, be done!"
Nellie listened until she almost felt as if she herself were standing with her mother on the threshold of eternity. A sweet and awful calmness settled on her soul. She knew intuitively that her mother was in the very act of dying, but she no longer felt fear or sorrow. It was as if the Judge of the living and the dead, not stern and exacting, but tender and approving, was descending in person to that bed of death to speak the sentence of his faithful servant. It was as if saints and angels were crowding after him, bowed down, indeed, beneath his awful presence, but yet glad and jubilant over the crowning of a sister spirit, and bringing the songs and sweetness of heaven itself on the rustling of their snowy wings. And in the midst of such thoughts as these, Nellie still could hear her mother's voice repeating, "Thy will, my God, not mine, be done."
Fainter still and fainter grew that voice, as the soul which spoke by it receded toward eternity; then all at once it died away, and Nellie felt that the last word had been said in heaven.