She was only a child; her life was strong in every
limb; but God could not mean her to live here, in this way,--that
would not be merciful, and His property was always to have mercy. So
death would come,--death as a friend, just as Auntie Joy had always
described him; and she would go hence, led by her Father's hand.
But now, what change was coming over her? The air seemed lighter,
clearer, since Anderson had left the room. A new hope entered her
heart, coming she knew not whence, filling it with pulses and waves of
joy. She thought of her home; and it seemed to grow nearer, more
distinct, at every moment. She saw (as blind people see) the face of
Rejoice Dale, beaming with joy and peace; she felt the strong clasp of
Miss Vesta's hand. She smelt the lilacs, the white lilacs beneath
which she loved to sit and sing. She heard--oh, God! what did she
hear? What sound was this in her ears? Was it still the dream, the
lovely dream of home, or was a real sound thrilling in her ears,
beating in her heart, filling the whole world with the voice of
hope,--of hope fulfilled, of life and love?
"I've travelled this country all over,
And now to the next I must go;
But I know that good quarters await me,
And a welcome to Rosin the Beau.
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