Harry
was down upon his knees beside her, trying to stifle his passionate
grief. Augustine prayed audibly above her, and the fervor of his
broken words comforted all hearts but one. Bella was clinging,
panic-stricken, to the kind old doctor, who was sobbing like a boy,
for he had loved and served poor Helen as faithfully as if she had
been his own.
"Can nothing save her?" Christie whispered, as the prayer ended, and
a sound of bitter weeping filled the room.
"Nothing; she is sane and safe at last, thank God!"
Christie could not but echo his thanksgiving, for the blessed
tranquillity of the girl's countenance was such as none but death,
the great healer, can bring; and, as they looked, her eyes opened,
beautifully clear and calm before they closed for ever. From face to
face they passed, as if they looked for some one, and her lips moved
in vain efforts to speak.
Christie went to her, but still the wide, wistful eyes searched the
room as if unsatisfied; and, with a longing that conquered the
mortal weakness of the body, the heart sent forth one tender cry:
"My mother--I want my mother!"
There was no need to repeat the piteous call, for, as it left her
lips, she saw her mother's face bending over her, and felt her
mother's arms gathering her in an embrace which held her close even
after death had set its seal upon the voiceless prayers for pardon
which passed between those reunited hearts.
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