st thou follow me?" asked the figure. "I am Death!"

She bowed her assent. Then it seemed all at once as if every star in
the heavens above shone with the light of the moon. She saw the
many-coloured flowers on the surface of the grave move like a
fluttering garment. She sank, and the figure threw his dark cloak
round her. It became night--the night of death. She sank deeper than
the sexton's spade could reach. The churchyard lay like a roof above
her head.

The cloak that had enveloped her glided to one side. She stood in an
immense hall, whose extremities were lost in the distance. It was dusk
around her; but before her stood, and in one moment was clasped to her
heart, her child, who smiled on her in beauty far surpassing what he
had possessed before. She uttered a cry, though it was scarcely
audible, for close by, and then far away, and afterwards near again,
came delightful music. Never before had such glorious, such blessed
sounds reached her ear. They rang from the other side of the thick
curtain--black as night--that separated the hall from the boundless
space of eternity.

"My sweet mother! my own mother!" she heard her child exclaim. It was
his well-known, most beloved voice. And kiss followed kiss in
rapturous joy. At length the child pointed to the sable curtain.

"There is nothing so charming up yonder on earth, mother. Look,
mother!--look at them all! That is felicity!"

The mother saw nothing--nothing in the direction to which the child
pointed, except darkness like that of night. _She_ saw with earthly
eyes. She did not see as did the child whom God had called to himself.
She heard, indeed, sounds--music; but she did not understand the words
that were conveyed in these exquisite tones.

"I can fly now, mother," said the child. "I can fly with all the other
happy children, away, even into the presence of God. I wish so much to
go; but if you cry on as you are crying now I cannot leave you, and
yet I should be so glad to go. May I not? You will come back soon,
will you not, dear mother?"

"Oh, stay! Oh, stay!" she cried, "only one moment more. Let me gaze on
you one moment longer; let me kiss you, and hold you a moment longer
in my arms."

And she kissed him, and held him fast. Then her name was called from
above--the tones were those of piercing grief. What could they be?

"Hark!" said the child; "it is my father calling on you."

And again, in a few seconds, deep sobs were heard, as of childr