That night the children's young mother went on her journey. The
summons for her to go came unexpectedly, as it often does in the end.
She had not even time to say good-by to the children, nor to her
husband, only just a brief moment to look, with startled eyes, at the
wonderful face of the angel who had come to fetch her, and then with a
smile of bliss to let him clasp her in his arms and feel his strong
wings round her, and then she was away, beyond the lovely house and
the beautiful garden, and the children sleeping quietly in their beds,
and the husband who was slumbering by her side--beyond the tall trees
and the peaks of the highest mountains, beyond the stars themselves,
until finally she entered the portals of a home that is everlasting,
and found herself in a land where the flowers do not fade.

In the morning the children were told that their mother was dead. They
all cried, and everyone thought it dreadfully sad, except Iris, who
knew better. It was Fortune who brought in the news to the
children--they had just gone into the day-nursery at the time.

Fortune was a stern woman, somewhat over fifty years of age. She was
American by birth, and had lived with Mrs. Delaney since Iris was
born. Mrs. Delaney was also American, which may have accounted for
some of her bright fancies, and quiet, yet sweet and quick ways.
Fortune was very fond of the children after her fashion, which was,
however, as a rule, somewhat severe and exacting. But to-day, in her
bitter grief, she sank down on the nearest chair, and allowed them all
to crowd round her, and cried bitterly, and took little Orion in her
arms and kissed him and petted him, and begged of each child to
forgive her for ever having been cross or disagreeable, and promised,