CHAPTER VI
Daily the child sank lower and steadily lower towards the grave, anddaily the sorrowing old watchers carried gilded tidings of her radianthealth and loveliness to the happy mother, whose pilgrimage was also nownearing its end. And daily they forged loving and cheery notes in thechild's hand, and stood by with remorseful consciences and bleedinghearts, and wept to see the grateful mother devour them and adore themand treasure them away as things beyond price, because of their sweetsource, and sacred because her child's hand had touched them.
At last came that kindly friend who brings healing and peace to all.The lights were burning low. In the solemn hush which precedes the dawnvague figures flitted soundless along the dim hall and gathered silentand awed in Helen's chamber, and grouped themselves about her bed, fora warning had gone forth, and they knew. The dying girl lay with closedlids, and unconscious, the drapery upon her breast faintly rising andfalling as her wasting life ebbed away. At intervals a sigh or a muffledsob broke upon the stillness. The same haunting thought was in all mindsthere: the pity of this death, the going out into the great darkness,and the mother not here to help and hearten and bless.
Helen stirred; her hands began to grope wistfully about as if theysought something--she had been blind some hours. The end was come; allknew it. With a great sob Hester gathered her to her breast, crying,"Oh, my child, my darling!" A rapturous light broke in the dying girl'sface, for it was mercifully vouchsafed her to mistake those shelteringarms for another's; and she went to her rest murmuring, "Oh, mamma, I amso happy--I longed for you--now I can die."
Two hours later Hester made her report. The mother asked:
"How is it with the child?"
"She is well."