The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1886-08-07
you know there must be somebody
watchin' for the bridegroom"
What do Won mean. TOMB"

Feely, and I couldn't sleep out O. hear
in no ways"
"Why, Uncle Tom, what makes you
think SOP"
Miss Eva, she talks to me. The Lord,
he sends his messenger in the soul. 1
must be thar, Miss Feely; for when that
ar blessed child goes into the kingdom,
they'll open the door so wide we'll get a
look in at the glory, Miss Feely."
"Uncle Tom, did Miss Eva say she felt
more unwell than usual tonight"
"No; but she telled me this morning
she was comm nearer. Thar's them that
tells it to the child, Miss Feely. It's the
angels; it's the trumpet sound afore the
break O. day." said Tom, quoting from
favorite hymn.
This dialogue passed between Miss
Ophelia and Tom between ten and
eleven one evening, after her arrange
ments had all been made for the night,
when, on going to bolt her outer door,
she found Tom stretched along by it in
the outer veranda.
She was not nervous or impossible, but
the solemn, heartfelt manner struck her.
Eva had been unusually bright and cheer
full that afternoon, and had sat raised in
her bed and looked over all her little trink-
cts and precious things and designated
the friends to whom she would have them
given, and her manner was more Animal
ed and her voice more natural than they
had known it for weeks. Her father had
been in in the evening and had said that
Eva appeared more like her former self
than ever she had done since her sickness;
and when he kissed her for the night he
said to Miss Ophelia: cousin, we may
keep her with us after all; she is certainly
better; I" and he had retired with light
or heart in his bosom than he had had
there for weeks.
But at MISUNDERSTANDING mystic hour!
when che veil between the frail present
and the eternal future grows thin-then
came the messenger.
There was a sound in that chamber,
first of one who stepped quickly. 1t was
Miss Ophelia, who had resolved to sit up
all night with her little charge, and who,
at the turn of the night, had discerned
what experienced nurses significantly
call "change." The outer door was
quickly opened, and Tom, who was
watching outside, was on the alert in
moment.
$50 for the doctor, Tom. Lose not a
moment" said Miss Ophelia; and step
ping across the room she raped at st.
Claire's door.
"Cousin," she said, I" I wish you would
come"
Those words fell on his heart like clods
upon a coffin. Why did they? He was
up and in the room in an instant and
bending over Eve, who still slept.
What was it he saw that made his
heart stand still? Why was no word
spoken between the two? Thou canst
say who hast seen that same expression
on the face dearest to thee-that look in
describable, hopeless, unmistakable, that
says to thee that thy beloved is no longer
thine.
On the face of the child, however, there
was no CHASTITY imprint-only high and
almost sublime expression, the overshad-
owing presence of spiritual natures, the
dawning of immortal life in that childish
soul.
They stood there so still, gazing upon
her, that even the ticking of the watch
seemed too loud. In few moments
Tom returned with the doctor. He en-
tered, gave one look, and stood silent as
the rest.
"When did this change take placer"
said he, in low whisper to Miss Ophelia.
"About the turn of the night" was the
reply.
Marie, reused by the entrance of the
doctor, appeared hurriedly from the next
room. "Augustine Cousin! Oh, what"
she hurriedly began.
Hushl" said st. Claire, hoarsely;
she is dying!"
mdAA1y hOuiu phO WOA0S oAu hOw W
awaken the servants. The house was
soon reused. Lights we're seen, foot
steps heard, anxious faces thronged the
veranda and looked tearfully through the
glass doors, but st. Claire heard and said
nothing. He saw only that look on the
face of the little sleeper.
"Oh, if she would only wake and speak
once more!" he said; and STOPPING over
he spoke in her ear, " Eva, darling"
The large blue eyes Enclosed, smile
passed over he, face; she tried to raise
her head and speak.
Do you know me, Eva?"
Dear papa" said the child with last
effort, throwing her arms about his neck.
In moment they dropped again, and as
st. Claire raised his head he saw a spasm
of mortal agony pass over the face; she
struggled for breath and threw up her
little bands.
90 God, this is dreadful" he said,
turning away in agony and wringing
Toms hand, scarce conscious of what he
was doing. COB, Tom, my boy, it is kill
ing mel
Tom had his masters hands between
his own, and, with tears streaming down
! his dark cheeks, looked up for help where