Arnold, as she stood for a
moment to gaze upon a lovely child, standing besides her husband's
cot.
It was surely an angel in disguise sent to cheer his last moments.
A bouquet of choice flowers shed a delightful fragrance. They are
the gift of the child.
"This is too sad a place for such innocence," murmurs the invalid,
taking the bouquet and pressing it to his lips.
"Lalia is accustomed to such scenes, Mr. Arnold, I take her with me
on my daily rounds, that she may see the sorrows of humanity, and I
trust she will never grow so selfish as not to feel for them too."
"May you receive the greatest reward," cried the wretched Evelyn.
"Ah! much promise is in store for your child."
The little one glided toward the speaker, and putting the tiny white
arms around her neck, impressed a warm kiss upon the quivering lips.
"Good-bye, Lalia! When you grow to be a woman wear this for my
sake," and Montague Arnold took from his finger an old-fashioned
ring--the gift of his dying mother.
The child looked at the precious relic, as if it were too sacred
to touch. Then spoke her thanks through the soft dreamy eyes--
beautiful as an Italian sky.
"Good-bye, Lalia," and the child went forth with a sadness prophetic
that from these icy lips those words were the last she would ever
hear.
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