Even though she spoke with great difficulty, Hannah did not answer until

she repeated the question.

Then with a sob and a gulp the elder sister said: "Keep silence, and let people reproach your memory, Nora? How can I do

that?"

"Can reproach reach me--there?" she asked, raising her hand towards

heaven.

"But your child, Nora; for his sake his mother's memory should be

vindicated!"

"At the expense of making his father out a felon? No, Hannah, no; people

will soon forget he ever had a mother. He will only be known as Hannah

Worth's nephew, and she is everywhere respected. Promise me, Hannah."

"Nora, I dare not."

"Sister, I am dying; you cannot refuse the prayer of the dying."

Hannah was silent.

"Promise me! promise me! promise me! while my ears can yet take in your

voice!" Nora's words fell fainter and fainter; she was failing fast.

"Oh, Heaven, I promise you, Nora--the Lord forgive me for it!" wept

Hannah.

"The Lord bless you for it, Hannah." Her voice sunk into murmurs and the

cold shades of death crept over her face again; but rallying her fast

failing strength she gasped: "My boy, quick! Oh, quick, Hannah!"

Hannah lifted the babe from his nest and held him low to meet his

mother's last kiss.

"There, now, lay him on my arm, Hannah, close to my left side, and draw

my hand over him; I would feel him near me to the very last."

With trembling fingers the poor woman obeyed.

And the dying mother held her child to her heart, and raised her glazing

eyes full of the agony of human love to Heaven, and prayed: "O pitiful Lord, look down in mercy on this poor, poor babe! Take him

under thy care!" And with this prayer she sank into insensibility.

Hannah flew to the door and beckoned Herman. He came in, the living

image of despair. And both went and stood by the bed. They dared not

break the sacred spell by speech. They gazed upon her in silent awe.

Her face was gray and rigid; her eyes were still and stony; her breath

and pulse were stopped. Was she gone? No, for suddenly upon that face of

death a great light dawned, irradiating it with angelic beauty and

glory; and once more with awful solemnity deep bell-like tones tolled

forth the notes.

"Out of the depths have I called to Thee

And Thou hast heard my voice."

And with these holy words upon her lips the gentle spirit of Nora Worth,

ruined maiden but innocent mother, winged its way to heaven.




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