Sara gave a heart-rending cry, which reached Morton and the doctor, now
hurrying up the stairs; and when they entered she was calling piteously
upon the little one with every loving term her tongue was used to.
The doctor drew her gently away.
"He is gone," he said with solemn emphasis; "his sufferings are over!
Madam," to Mrs. Hoffstott, "pray take her away for a time; her nerves
are all unstrung."
That good woman led the half-fainting girl below, and at once despatched
Grisel for Madame Grandet and the minister of the church the Olmsteads
attended, who were shortly there, doing their best for the grief-
stricken little household; while in the evening both Professor and Mrs.
Macon came, the latter much grieved that she had been away when Morton
called.
All was done that could be done; and Sara, even in her grief, which was
for the time almost overwhelming, so deeply had this one of her cares
and responsibilities taken a hold upon her nature, was surprised at the
number of friends who seemed to have sprung up around them. She did not
know that the story of her love and her struggles had passed from mouth
to mouth, and that for the moment she was a heroine in their estimation.
Nor did she know, till days later, that the lovely little blanket of
white roses which wrapped the tiny white casket in its soft fragrance,
was the gift of some of those very students who had brought the blushes
to her cheek by their too pronounced admiration.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196