"Darling Papa you will come to me when Our Lord calls you. I know you love Him. Father Leonard will show you the true way to reach Heaven; O promise me you will follow it."

"My angel child," responded the father, "I solemnly promise." His sobs choked his utterance, but kneeling and taking his child's hand he kissed it fervently.

Exhausted by her efforts, she lay silent awhile, then turning to Bolax, she said: "Dear little Brother, never forget the promises you made to Our Lord the day of your First Holy Communion. Oh, serve Him faithfully that you may meet me in Paradise.

"Dearest Aunt Lucy, I thank you for all your years of kindness and love; oh, I know you will be there to rejoice with me.

"And Hetty dear! let me kiss the hand that nursed and tended me so faithfully."

Hetty's grief was becoming uncontrollable, so she hastened from the room lest she should unnerve the rest of the family.

Poor old Pat was not forgotten, when called to bid farewell, he managed to control himself while he knelt asking the dear child's blessing.

Here Reverend Father Leonard entered the room. Mrs. Allen lit the candles on the little altar at the foot of the bed; all withdrew for a few moments leaving Amy alone with the Priest.

When the Father was ready to administer the Holy Viatic.u.m, every one returned to the room, each bearing a lighted candle, knelt in prayer.

After receiving Our Dear Lord, the child's face became radiant; a heavenly smile lit up her countenance, she murmured: "Jesus, precious Jesus; how I love Thee! and yet--how unworthy I am!" Here she held out her hands as if beckoning to some one. "O my beloved! take me to Thyself! Jes--" The lips ceased their utterance with the sweet name half spoken. One long-drawn sigh and another angel was added to the innumerable company of the Blessed. The days that followed Amy's death were to the household painful in the extreme.

Mr. Allen was overwhelmed with grief. It was useless to try to speak to him; for two days he shut himself in his room and the Doctor could scarcely persuade him to take nourishment.

Mrs. Allen was resigned to G.o.d's will, although her heart was crushed with sorrow.

Kind neighbors came offering condolence, indeed the family had the sympathy of the whole village.

Reverend Mother Gertrude sent a letter by two of her Sisters reminding Mrs. Allen of Amy's desire to be buried under the Bed of Lilies.

"We are sure now," said the Sisters, "the dear child had a presentment of her approaching departure from this world, so Reverend Mother begs you will have the funeral from our Chapel and let the dear one rest under the Lilies of the Valley."

Reverend Father Leonard was consulted as to the advisability of accepting Mother Gertrude's gracious offer; Mrs. Allen feared her pastor might wish the funeral to take place in the parish church. "On the contrary," said the good priest, "I think no resting place could be more fitting for such a child than a grave where the rays of the Sanctuary Lamp shine out upon it through the Church windows. I shall go to St.

Imelda's and ask to be allowed to celebrate the Ma.s.s, which must be what we call the 'Ma.s.s of the Angels.'"

The funeral was announced for Thursday morning, carriages were to leave the house at half-past eight, so as to reach the Convent in time for the services at half-past nine. The Chapel was draped in white, all the flowers and ornaments on the altar and the vestments were white.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AUNT LUCY.]

Professor Renaldi's pupils, who were in the same cla.s.s as Amy, presented a beautiful harp of white rosebuds, with the word "Love" formed of Forget-Me-Nots woven across the strings.

The Chapel could scarcely contain the number of people who came to pay a last tribute of love to the dear child.

The gates of the Sanctuary were left open and the casket placed in front of the altar as near the rail as possible.

During the Ma.s.s the music was almost joyous. Reverend Mother ordered this expressly so that the bereaved parents might be soothed in their grief.

Six little girls dressed in white walked beside the casket as it was borne to the grave, and now our dear, our beloved one sleeps under the Lilies, emblematic of her own pure soul.

FUNERAL SERMON.

Dear Friends, I need not tell you who is she over whom we weep today.

You well remember little Amy, who only a few months ago knelt at this altar to receive Our Lord for the first time.

Like St. Imelda her heart and soul were absorbed in love for Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. On the night of the day Amy made her First Communion, her mother heard her crying and sobbing in her bed. When asked what could cause such grief, she answered: "O, Mother, this was the happiest day of my life, and I grieve because it is ended."

This child was especially loved by G.o.d. Graceful in form, lovely in feature, and in innocence of heart an angel, she seemed like some bright heavenly spirit lent for a time to the world to light up G.o.d's love in it.

There was about Amy a spiritual refinement--a looking forward to the things that are to come, a sweetly sad yearning towards Jesus, the object of her young heart's pure love.

Our Lord was jealous of the possession of so pure a soul, and before its loveliness might be tarnished by any fault incident to human frailty, he called her from earth to place her near His Sacred Heart for eternity.

Amy's whole life seemed to tend to one point, namely to love G.o.d above all things and in all things; she knew that without G.o.d's love man is not fulfilling his destiny, he is astray on a pathless waste--a ship on a storm-tossed sea, without helm and without hope.

Will you ask me how the dear one died? Think how she lived. A happy holy death closed a happy innocent life.

It was my sad duty to attend her during her last illness. I have seen many persons die, but among them all, Amy shone out pre-eminently for her resignation to G.o.d's will.

She was often heard praying in subdued tones, when intense pain a.s.sailed her: "O Holy Mother of Jesus, help me to bear my sufferings with patience, in union with those your Divine Son endured for me when dying on the cross."

Raising his hands and eyes to Heaven, the Priest prayed:

"Dear Angel child! we look up to you on this bright day, crowned in Heaven with a fadeless crown, pray for those you have left behind to mourn. If earth has lost an angel, Heaven has gained one. If we have been deprived of a dear affectionate daughter and sister, we have gained a blessed intercessor before G.o.d's Holy Throne in the glory of Paradise."

After the funeral Mr. Allen started for a business trip to St. Louis.

The Doctor said it was best he should go rather than remain where everything reminded him of the beloved one and gave him a heart-pang.

Winter pa.s.sed quietly, when Christmas came it was celebrated as a peaceful holy day; every one tried to be cheerful, but there was a minor in the carol--a spray of Cypress twining 'mid the holly wreaths.

On the first day of March a quiet wedding took place in the family, when dear Aunt Lucy became the wife of our beloved Doctor Carroll, to the great delight of Bolax and all the family, especially Hetty, "who always knowed dat weddin' done had to be."

Mrs. Allen begged that the "Honey-moon" trip should not be prolonged, as she could not spare her sister, so in three weeks' time the bride and groom returned to reside permanently in the old homestead.

One day in April, Bolax surprised every one by returning from school early in the morning, having been ordered home on account of scarlet fever, which had suddenly broken out at St. Thomas'.

Later in the day the President telephoned to Mrs. Allen telling her that there were fifteen cases in the house, the disease having been brought in by a day pupil. "It will necessitate our closing the cla.s.ses for the season, and will entail a serious loss to the College."

So Bolax had to study as best he could at home with the a.s.sistance of Mamma and Uncle Carroll.

CHAPTER XIV.

BOLAX GOES TO COLLEGE.

For several winters Mr. Allen had suffered from severe grippe colds, each year his system seemed less able to resist the attacks, so Dr.

Carroll prescribed a winter in Florida, saying that it was an absolute necessity both for his health and as a complete rest from business, to which he had been a slave.