"You is sick now only; lie still and you will soon see your mother." The time sped swiftly, but to the dying child it seemed an age.

She lay there; her life breath ebbing fast, waiting for her mother, that she may die in her arms.

Angels filled the lowly cabin, and held their outstretched arms to receive the spirit of a sinless babe, as soon as it would leave the mortal clay it animated.

Soon, soon would it have been borne on high, for the rattle in the child's throat had almost commenced, 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 the mother started anew the arteries of life, and the blood once more rushed to the cheeks of the dying.

Ella held out her arms as her mother approached her, with some medicine in her hand.