O, avillish machree
(sweetness of my heart), don't you hear that it is your mother's voice
that's spakin' to you!"
She was still, however, insensible; and her little brothers were all in
tears about her.
"O mother!" said the oldest, sobbing, "is Nannie dead too? When she went
away from us you bid us not to cry, that she would soon come back; and
now she has only come back to die. Nannie, I'm your own little Frank;
won't you hear me I Nannie, will you never wash my face of a Sunday
morning more? will you never comb down my hair, put the pin in my shirt
collar, and kiss me, as you used to do before we went to Mass together?"
The poor mother was so much overcome by this artless allusion to her
innocent life, involving, as it did, such a manifestation of affection,
that she wept until fairly exhausted, after which she turned her eyes up
to heaven and exclaimed, whilst her daughter's inanimate body still lay
in her arms,
"O Lord of mercy, will you not look down with pity and compassion on me
this night!"
In the course of about ten minutes after this her daughter's eyes began
to fill with those involuntary tears which betoken in females recovery
from a fit; they streamed quietly, but in torrents, down her cheek.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52