determination not to yield myself to my own thoughts, I
informed Mrs. Philander that I was going to live with Grandma a while,
that I should not go through that part of the Ark where she and the
children were, and she must keep the little door at the foot of the
stairway locked, and not let the children follow me; and I sprinkled
myself with camphor and went back with Grandma to Captain Sartell's
house.

Mrs. Sartell was alone in the room with Bess. I expected that she would
meet me with an almost reproachful look, but there was only sorrow in her
face, a sorrow that seemed intensified by the smile she lifted to us as
we entered. The air in the room was very pure and sweet. The bed on which
Bess lay was as white as snow. But what a change a day had wrought in the
little face pressed against the pillow.

"Teacher's come," said Grandma Keeler, with soft; pathetic cheer, bending
over the child.

"Would she care now?" I thought. "Would she know me?"

Just once she opened her eyes wide, smiled, and threw her arms towards me
feebly. I would have taken her then, I thought, if it had been my death.

They wrapped a shawl around her, and I took her in my arms, rocked her
gently and sang to her, very softly, the songs she loved best. She moved
a little restlessly, and then lay very still with her head on my breast.

So I rocked and sang to Bess, and the two women moved noiselessly about
the room until Grandma Keeler came and looked down very intently into the
little one's face.

"She's asleep," I murmured, placing a finger on my lips.

"Yes, she's asleep," said Grandma, in a trembling voice, solemnly.
"Sweet, purty little one," she went on, with tears running down her
cheeks, and she turned to the mother--"Thank God, you!" she exclaimed,
with sudden strength and firmness in her voice, that was yet thrilled
with emotion; "from sorrowin' and from pain forevermore, the Lord has
took His lamb!"

Ay, life's chain of dewy morning flowers was broken! The baby fingers had
dropped those purple fragments without grief, now, or dismay--only the
peace of some sweet unfolding mystery over the veiled blue eyes!

Still, she seemed to me asleep--only asleep. I felt no shrinking from the
dead child in my arms. When they took her away from me and laid her on
the bed, I looked at her tranquil face, and the mother's passionate grief
seemed out of place. Why should one wish to wake another from such
repose? I could not comprehend the mother