"The last night at home," she said. "On the morrow I must go forth, to
return no more, the loving, dutiful child. Should he ever consent to
have me come back, I can never be again what I once was to his heart.
I shall have broken the trust he held in me," Susie moaned.
Tenderly the brother and sister were ministered to, her hand resting
on each little head, as their lisping voices followed hers in the
evening prayer. Willie and Emma arose, their demure faces lifted to
receive the good-night kiss. But Rosie, the two-and-a-half-year baby,
the dying mother's sacred charge, wound her tiny arms about the elder
sister, and with baby-like perversity hung on, lisping:
"Now Susu pay, too. _Pease_, Susu. Do!"
The baby plead; and Susie, raising her eyes to Rosie's, felt mother,
not far away, but near, _very_ near, and pleading through her child.
The sunny head was dropped again, and Susie prayed--even as Rosie had
begged her. Prayed for guidance to the better way.
Three pair of little pattering feet were resting. Three rosy faces
pressed the downy pillow, and Susie's evening task was done.
Gently she stole away.
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