Mrs. Elsie Travilla rose earlier the next morning than her wont,--a vague
uneasiness oppressing her in regard to her aged nurse,--and waiting
only to don dressing-gown and slippers went softly to Aunt Chloe's
bedside; but finding her sleeping peacefully, she returned as quietly
as she had come, thinking to pay another visit before descending to the
breakfast-room.
Only a few minutes had passed, however, when the little maid Betty came
rushing unceremoniously in, her eyes wild with affright. "Missus,
missus," she cried, "suffin de mattah wid ole Aunt Chloe; she--"
Elsie waited to hear no more, but pushing past the child, flew to the
rescue.
But one glance at the aged face told her that no human help could avail;
the seal of death was on it.
A great wave of sorrow swept over her at the sight, but she was outwardly
calm and composed as, taking the cold hand in hers, she asked, "Dear
mammy, is it peace?"
"Yes, chile, yes," came in feeble yet assured accents from the dying
lips; "an' I's almos' dar; a po' ole sinnah saved by grace.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153