CHAPTER TWENTIETH
THE DYING CHILD.
After the departure of Mrs. Wentworth, the little girl lie still uponthe bed, while her little brother played about the room. Nearly onehour elapsed in silence. The breath of the child became shorter andharder drawn. Her little face became more pinched, while the colddrops of perspiration rose larger on her forehead. Instinct told hershe was dying, but young as she was, death created no terrors in herheart. She lay there, anxious for her mother's return, that she maydie in the arms of the one who gave her birth. Death seemed to her butthe advent to Heaven, that home in which we are told all is goodnessand happiness. She thought herself an Angel dwelling with the Maker,and in her childish trustfulness and faith almost wished herselfalready numbered among the Cherubs of Paradise.
The old negro returned before Mrs. Wentworth, and walking to thebedside of the child, looked at her, and recognized the impress ofapproaching death. She felt alarmed, but could not remedy the evil.Looking at the child sorrowfully for a moment, she turned away.
"Poh chile," she muttered sadly, "she is dyin' sho' and her mammy isgone out. Da's a ting to take place in my room."
"Granny," said Ella feebly.
"What do you want my darlin' chile," answered the old woman, returningto the bedside.
"See if mother is coming," she requested.
The old woman walked to the door, and looked down the street. Therewas no sign of Mrs. Wentworth.
"No missy," she said to Ella, "your mammy is not coming yet."
"Oh, I do wish she would come," remarked the little girl.
"Lie still, darlin'," the old woman answered. "Your mammy will comeback directly."
The child lay still for several minutes, but her mother came not andshe felt that before many hours she would cease to live.
"Look again, granny, and see if mother is coming," she againrequested, and in a fainter tone.
The old woman looked out once more, but still there was no sign ofMrs. Wentworth.
"Neber mind, darlin' your mammy will cum directly," she said, and thenadded. "Let me know what you want and I will git it for you."
"I don't want anything, granny," Ella answered, and remained silentfor a moment, when she continued: "Granny aint I going to die?"
The old negro looked at her for a moment, and a tear stole down herwithered features. She could not answer, for ignorant and uneducatedas she was, the signs which betoken the parting of the soul from thebody, were too apparent, not to be easily recognized.
"Poh chile," she muttered, as she turned her head and brushed away thefalling tear.
"Answer me, granny," said Ella. "I am not afraid to die, but I wouldlike to bid mother good-bye, before I went to Heaven."
"Don't tink of sich tings chile'" observed the old woman. "You is sicknow only; lie still and you will soon see your mother."
The time sped swiftly, but to the dying child it seemed an age. Shelay there; her life breath ebbing fast, waiting for her mother, thatshe may die in her arms. Angels filled the lowly cabin, and held theiroutstretched arms to receive the spirit of a sinless babe, as soon asit would leave the mortal clay it animated. Soon, soon would it havebeen borne on high, for the rattle in the child's throat had almostcommenced, when a hurried footstep was heard at the door, and Mrs.Wentworth, pale and tired entered the room.
The hand of Death was stayed for awhile, for the presence of themother started anew the arteries of life, and the blood once morerushed to the cheeks of the dying. Ella held out her arms as hermother approached her, with some medicine in her hand. As she gazedupon her child, Mrs. Wentworth started back, and uttered a faintexclamation of anguish. She saw the worst at a glance, and placingaside the medicine, she seized her child's extended hands, and bendingover her, pressed her darling daughter to her heart.
"Here aunty," she said, as soon us she had released Ella, "Here issome money, run and call a physician at once."
The old negro took the money and moved off.
"Tell him to come instantly," she called out after the negro. "It is amatter of life and death, and there is no time to lose."
"Too late, too late! poor people," said the old woman, as she hurriedon her mission of mercy.
It was too late. No science on earth could save Ella from death, andnone on high save the Infinite Power, but He knew not of it. His eyeswere still turned away from the Soldier's Wife and her children.
Mrs. Wentworth remained silent, looking at her child as she gasped forbreath. Of what use was the money she had committed a crime to obtain?Of what avail were her supplications to God? It were thoughts likethese that passed rapidly through her mind, as she speechlessly gazedat the fast sinking form of her child. Ella saw her agony, and triedto soothe her mother.
"Come nearer to me, mother," she said. "Come near and speak to me."Mrs. Wentworth drew near the bedside, and bent her face to the child.
"What do you wish, darling?" she asked.
"Mother, I am dying--I am going to Heaven," Ella said, speaking withan effort.
A smothered sob, was the only response she met with.
"Don't cry mother," continued the child. "I am going to a good place,and do not feel afraid to die."
Shaking off her half maddened feeling, Mrs. Wentworth replied. "Don'tspeak that way, darling. You are not going to die. The physician willsoon be here, and he will give you some thing which will get youbetter."
Ella smiled faintly. "No, mother, I cannot get better; I know I amgoing to die. Last night, while sleeping, an angel told me in mydream, that I would sleep with God to-night."
"That was only a dream, darling," Mrs. Wentworth replied, "you willget well and live a long time."
As she spoke the old negro returned, accompanied by a physician. Hewas one of these old fashioned gentlemen, who never concern themselveswith another's business, and therefore, he did not enquire the causeof Mrs. Wentworth, and her family being in so poor a dwelling. Hisbusiness was to attend the sick, for which he expected to be paid; notthat he was hard-hearted, for, to the contrary, he was a verycharitable and generous man, but he expected that all persons whorequired his advice, should have the means of paying for the same, orgo to the public hospital, where they could be attended to free ofcharge. His notions were on a par with those of mankind in general, sowe cannot complain of him.
Approaching Ella, he took her hand and felt the pulse which was thenfeebly beating. A significant shake of the head, told Mrs. Wentworththat there was no hope for her child's recovery.
"Doctor," she asked, "will my daughter recover?"
"Madam," he replied, "your child is very, very ill, in fact, I fearshe has not many hours to live."
"It cannot be," she said. "Do not tell me there is no hope for mychild."
"I cannot deceive you, madam," he replied, "the child has beenneglected too long for science to triumph over her disease. When didyou first call in a medical practitioner?" he added.
"Not until you were sent for," she answered.
"Then you are much to blame, madam," he observed bluntly. "Had yousent for a physician three weeks ago, the life of your child wouldhave been saved, but your criminal neglect to do so, has sacrificedher life."
Mrs. Wentworth did not reply to his candid remarks. She did not tellhim that for weeks past her children and herself had scarcely beenable to find bread to eat, much less to pay a doctor's bill. She didnot tell him that she was friendless and unknown; that her husband hadbeen taken prisoner while struggling for his country's rights; thatMr. Elder had turned herself and her children from a shelter, becauseshe had no money to pay him for the rent of the room; nor did she tellhim that the fee he had received, was obtained by theft--was the fruitof a transgression of God's commandments.
She forgot all these. The reproach of the physician had fallen like athunderbolt from Heaven, in her bosom. Already in her heart sheaccused herself with being the murderess of her child. Already sheimagined, because her poverty had prevented her receiving medicaladvice, that the accusi
ng Angel stood ready to prefer charges againsther for another and a greater crime, than any she had ever beforecommitted.
"Dying! dying!" she uttered at last, her words issuing from her lips,as if they were mere utterances from some machine. "No hope--no hope!"
"Accept my commiseration, madam," observed the physician, placing hishat on, and preparing to depart. "Could I save your child, I wouldgladly do so, but there is no hope. She may live until nightfall, buteven that is doubtful."
Bowing to Mrs. Wentworth, he left the room, in ignorance of the agonyhis reproach had caused her, and returned to his office. Dr. Mallardwas the physician's name. They met again.
Ella had listened attentively to the physicians words, but not theslightest emotion was manifested by her, when he announced that shewas dying. She listened calmly, and as the doctor had finishedinforming her mother of the hopelessness of her case, the little palelips moved slowly, and the prayer that had been taught her when allwas joy and happiness, was silently breathed by the dying child.
"Mother," she said, as soon as Dr. Mallard had left the room. "Comehere and speak to me before I die."
"Ella! Ella!" exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth wildly. "Did you not hear whatthe physician said?"
"Yes, mother," she answered, "but I knew it before. Do not look sosad, come and speak to me, and let me tell you that I am not afraid todie."
"Ella, my darling child," continued Mrs. Wentworth in the same strain."Did you not hear the physician say it is my neglect that had causedyou to be dying?"
"I heard him mother, but he was not right," she replied.
"Come nearer," she continued in an earnest tone. "Sit on the bed andlet me rest my head on your lap."
Seating herself on the bed, Mrs. Wentworth lifted the body of thedying child in her arms, and pillowed her head on her breast. The oldnegro was standing at the foot of the bed, looking on quietly, whilethe tears poured down her aged cheeks. Mrs. Wentworth's little sonclimbed on the bed, and gazed in wonder at the sad aspect of hismother, and the dying features of his sister.
"Mother," said the child, "I am going to Heaven, say a prayer for me."She essayed to pray, but could not, her lips moved, but utterance wasdenied to her.
"I cannot pray, darling," she replied, "prayer is denied to me."
The child asked no more, for she saw her mother's inability to complywith her wishes.
The little group remained in the same position until the setting sungleamed through the window, and shed a bright ray across the bed. Nota sound was heard, save the ticking of the old fashioned clock on themantle piece, as its hands slowly marked the fleeting minutes. Theeyes of the dying child had been closed at the time, but as thesunlight shot across her face she opened them, and looked up into hermother's face.
"Open the window, granny," she said.
The old woman opened it, and as she did so, the round red glare of thesun was revealed, while the aroma of thousands wild flowers that grewbeneath the window, entered the room, and floated its perfume on theautumn air.
"Mother," said the dying child.
Mrs. Wentworth looked down upon her child.
"What is it darling," she asked.
"Let brother kiss me," she requested.
Her little brother was lifted up and held over her. She pressed a softkiss upon his lips.
"Good-bye, granny," she said, holding out her hand to the negro.
The old woman seized it, and the tears fell faster, on the bed thanthey had hitherto done. Her humble heart was touched at the simple,yet unfearing conduct of the child.
"Mother, kiss me," she continued. "Do not be sad," she added,observing her mother's pale and ghastly countenance. "I am going to aworld where no one is sick, and no one knows want."
Stooping over her dying child, Mrs. Wentworth complied with Ella'srequest, and pressed her brow in a long and earnest kiss. She had notspoken a word from the time her child requested the old woman to openthe window, but she had never for an instant, ceased looking on thefeatures of her dying daughter, and she saw that the film was fastgathering on her eyes.
After her mother had kissed her, Ella remained silent for severalminutes, when suddenly starting, she exclaimed: "I see them, mother! Isee them! See the Angels coming for me--Heaven--mother--Angels!" Abright smile lit her features, the half-opened eyes lit up with thelast fires of life; then as they faded away, her limbs relaxed, andstill gazing on her mother's face, the breath left the body.
There was a rush as of wind through the window, but it was the Angels,who were bearing the child's spirit to a brighter and a better world.
The Trials of the Soldier's Wife Page 20