And so, as
I have said, I was at a loss to determine which was most beautiful."
I was just rising from my early breakfast on the next morning when I
received a hurried message from Ivy Cottage. The angel of Death had
been there. Tenderly and lovingly had he taken the hand of Mrs.
Montgomery, and led her through the gate that opens into the land of
immortals. She received her daughter's kiss at eleven o'clock, held
her for some moments, gazing into her face, and then
said--"Good-night, my precious one! Good-night, and God bless you!"
At seven in the morning she was found lying in bed with a smile on
her face, but cold and lifeless as marble! There had been no strife
with the heavenly messenger.
CHAPTER XIX.
No;--there had been no strife with the heavenly messenger. As a
child falls asleep in its mother's arms, so fell Mrs. Montgomery
asleep in the arms of an angel--tranquil, peaceful, happy. I say
happy--for in lapsing away into that mortal sleep, of which our
natural sleep is but an image, shall the world-weary who have in
trial and suffering grown heavenly minded, sink into unconsciousness
with less of tranquil delight than the babe pillowed against its
mother's bosom? I think not.
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