John with a breaking heart lifted her in his arms and
carried her gently to-and-fro. The change and motion relieved her a
little and what words of comfort and love he said in that last communion
only God knows. But though he held her close in his strong arms, she
found a way to pass from him to God. Quivering all over like a wounded
bird, she gave John her last smile, and was not, for God took her. The
bud had opened to set free the rose--the breathing miracle into silence
passed. Weeping passionately, his tears washed her face. He was in an
agony of piteous feeling in which there was quite unconsciously a strain
of resentment.
"She is gone!" he cried, and the two physicians present bowed their
heads. Then Jane rose and took the body from the distracted father's
arms. She was white and worn out with suffering and watching, but she
would allow no one to make the child's last toilet but herself. For this
ceremony she needed no lace or satin, no gilt or mock jewelry. She
washed the little form free of all earth's stain, combed loose the
bright brown hair, matted with the sweat of suffering, and dressed her
for the last--the last time, in one of the pretty white linen nightgowns
she had made for her darling but a few weeks previously.
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