shutter to the window which let in the one patch of dim light was now
closed and the room was quite dark, save for two candles that stood upon
stands, one at the foot, the other at the head of the bed. The air was
heavy--sickening almost--with the odor of flowers. Upon the bed, all
dressed in white, and with a wreath of white roses on her dark ringlets,
lay their mother, with eyelids fast shut and a lovely smile on her
lips. She was very white and very beautiful, but when her little boy
kissed her the pale lips were cold on his rosy ones, as if the smile had
frozen there. It was very beautiful but the boy was a little frightened.

"Mother--" he said softly, pleadingly, "Wake up! I want you to wake up."

The weeping nurse placed her arm around him and knelt beside the bed.

"She will never wake up again here on earth, Eddie darling.
Never--nevermore. She has gone to live with the angels where you will be
with her some day, but never--nevermore on earth."

With that she fell to weeping bitterly, hiding her face on his little
shoulder.

The child, marvelling, softly repeated, "Nevermore--nevermore." The
solemn, musical word, with the picture in the dim light, of the sleeping
figure--asleep to wake nevermore--and so white, so white, all save the
dusky curls, sank deep into his young mind and memory. His great grey
eyes were wistful with the beauty, and the sadness, and the mystery of
it all.

The next day the boy rode in a carriage with Mrs. Fipps and Nurse Betty
who had left off the big white cap and was enveloped from head to foot