“‘Heaven bless you, my precious, true, unselfish friend!’ exclaimed Miss Bramlett, still holding Lottie to her heart; ‘God has answered my prayers, for on my knees I have spent four hours every day in sending up my supplications in behalf of my darling Lottie. I am one of those who have unlimited confidence in the goodness and mercy of God, and believe He answers the prayers of those who ask in the spirit of true faith. Every time I knelt down to pray for the recovery of my darling friend, I thought of that precious promise which our dear Saviour made with His own lips, when He said: “Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.” Now, Lottie, when I prayed, I did honestly believe that our dear Jesus would remember His precious promise; and sure enough He has. Oh, dear God, receive my humble, but sincere, thanks for this great blessing!’
“Lottie then came to me, smiling through her tears and looking supremely happy.
“‘You may go to see Miss Clattermouth now, Edward; and you must not fail to return here punctually at four o’clock, for I am going to order another one of those cozy dinners, to be served in Viola’s room; therefore you must not keep us waiting. Remember the instructions, and let no consideration or circumstance prevent the success of our enterprise, which you know to be of such great importance.’
“Pressing her hand to my lips, and promising to put in my appearance punctually at four o’clock, I jumped into the carriage and ordered the coachman to drive to the residence of Miss Clattermouth. As the vehicle went rumbling over the rough road, I began to reflect on the business before me, with a view of arranging my plans so as to be ready to act promptly at the proper time.
“The carriage halted in front of the house before any definite scheme was arranged in my mind. Walking up to the door, I gave the bell a vigorous pull, and a moment after I heard the slamming of innumerable doors, and then the front one flew open, and there appeared a living creature. It would be a misnomer to say it was a woman; yet it was not a man or monkey; and not being a believer in witches, I am at a loss to describe the horrible looking object that stood with glaring eyes riveted on me. Miss Cushman’s representation of the Gypsy in ‘Guy Mannering’ would be a fairy when compared with the hideous object who darkened that door. I ran back eight or ten paces, while an involuntary shudder darted through my body. I did not smell brimstone, see fire, or hear thunder, but the same feelings of horror seized upon me that I had experienced once upon a time when I went to see the infernal regions in a museum. This she-demon (a name I think most proper to give her) held out her long bony arm toward me, and began to work her claw-like fingers as if she wanted to grab me.
“‘What do ye stand there for, staring at a body like an idiot?’ she growled; ‘are ye dumb? Can’t ye tell what ye want?’
“‘I wish to see Miss Clattermouth,’ I stammered with no little difficulty.
“‘Get along with ye to Tadpoddle’s then!’ and the door was closed with a slam, and I felt very much relieved. I was pleased to learn that I should find Miss Clattermouth and Miss Tadpoddle together, as I imagined that this circumstance would facilitate the important business which I was so anxious to transact. I lost no time, you may be sure, in leaping into the carriage, and as I did so, I gave the coachman instructions to hasten to the Tadpoddle mansion. I found the front hall door open when I arrived, and being well acquainted with the premises, I immediately and without ceremony passed through the hall, and made my appearance at the door of Miss Tadpoddle’s boudoir, which I also found standing wide open. As I entered the house my ears were pierced with a succession of the most doleful and heart-rending cries that I had ever heard. Miss Tadpoddle was lying on the sofa in the middle of the room, and her mother was bathing her temples with some sort of liquid, while Miss Clattermouth was holding a smelling bottle to her nose.
“‘Oh, mother! how can I live when my sweet, precious little darling is dead? Oh, ho! ho! ho! it will kill me, I know it will! Every time I shut my eyes I can see the pretty little darling in his tiny coffin, wrapped in his little ruffled shroud, with his sweet little eyes closed just as if he was asleep. Oh, ho! ho! ho! shall I never see him again in this world? Oh, mother, let me die! I do not want to live now, since my little angel is gone from me forever. He loved me so much, and was such a comfort to me—he was always crying after me when I was away from him.’
“My heart was deeply moved to hear the poor lady’s sorrowful lamentations, and it was with some difficulty that I restrained my tears. I began to look round for a little coffin, but it was not there. I then cast a glance up and down the hall, expecting to see an empty baby carriage or tenantless crib, but I saw them not. No little baby shoes or baby frocks were in sight; no baby hats; no broken toys, or any article such as pleases little boys, were to be seen. That a boy baby was dead I concluded was certain, for I heard her speak of his little coffin, and his little shroud. Now what does it all mean? was a question which naturally presented itself to my mind. Who is the little angel that has been taken back to Heaven? Ah, I have it now! She has adopted some sweet little orphan child, and just as she began to love it dearly, the little darling has laid down and died.