The poor mother seemed almost beside herself, as she called on her child to speak to her once more.
"Sing something, Edna; oh! perhaps he will hear! It might rouse him!"
The orphan shook her head, and dropped her face on his.
"He would not hear me; no, no! He is listening to the song of those whose golden harps ring in the New Jerusalem."
Out of the whitening east rose the new day, radiant in bridal garments, wearing a star on its pearly brow; and the sky flushed, and the sea glowed, while silvery mists rolled up from the purple mountain gorges, and rested awhile on the summits of the Apennines, and sunshine streamed over the world once more.
The first rays flashed into the room, kissing the withered flowers on the bosom of the cripple, and falling warm and bright on the cold eyelids and the pulseless temples. Edna's hand was pressed to his heart, and she knew that it had given its last throb; knew that Felix Andrews had crossed the sea of glass, and in the dawn of the Eternal day wore the promised morning-star, and stood in peace before the Sun of Righteousness.
* * * * * * * During the two days that succeeded the death of Felix, Edna did not leave her room; and without her knowledge Mrs. Andrews administered opiates that stupefied her. Late on the morning of the third she awoke, and lay for some time trying to collect her thoughts.
Her mind was clouded, but gradually it cleared, and she strained her ears to distinguish the low words spoken in the apartment next to her own. She remembered, as in a feverish dream, all that passed on the night that Felix died; and pressing her hand over her aching forehead, she rose and sat on the edge of her bed.
The monotonous sounds in the neighboring room swelled louder for a few seconds, and now she heard very distinctly the words: "And I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth."
She shivered, and wrapped around her shoulders a bright blue shawl that had been thrown over the foot of the bed.
Walking across the floor, she opened the door, and looked in.
The boy's body had been embalmed, and placed in a coffin which rested in the centre of the room; and an English clergyman, a friend of Mr. Manning's, stood at the head of the corpse, and read the burial service.
Mrs. Andrews and Hattie were weeping in one corner and Mr. Manning leaned against the window, with his hand on Lila's curls. As the door swung open and Edna entered, he looked up.