The curtains sway in the open windows, as if the room were breathing. All else is still. I see all this as if it were a scene in a dream or as a picture,--something in which I have no part; and yet I feel that my heart throbbed in that mother's bosom. I know that after she had sent away all kind friends, to watch alone that last night, it was literally and truly a "white night" to her. She felt neither sorrow nor grief. Yesterday her heart was torn with anguish, when those heavenly eyes grew dim with the death-glaze. To-morrow it will be rent again, when the little form is hidden from her in its white casket; and again--at that bitterest moment Life can give--when the first handful of earth makes hollow echo above it. But to-night there is the uplifted feeling of perfect peace. Although it is the third sleepless night, there is no thought of weariness. All through the short hours she sits and feasts her eyes on the angelic face with its look of joy unutterable. And Bruno watches with her. * * * * * The next day Bruno does not ask to join the sad procession leaving the cottage. He has no thought for self at such a time. As it turns the corner, his mournful eyes are seen at the window, gazing after his little playmate who is being carried away. Or does he realize it is only the beautiful body they are taking, which was all too frail for the bright spirit now flown these two days since! CHAPTER XVIII Again the mother is in the city home. No crib stands by the fireplace; no tiny garments are spread out to air. All is orderly as in the years that now seem so far away. She sits with book or needle. The book falls to her knee, the work slips to the floor; tears steal down her cheeks. Bruno presses near, his head against her arm. With his uplifted, pleading eyes, he seems to say,-- "Don't cry, Judith, please don't cry." Oh, matchless comforter! After a time we notice that Bruno is growing old and feeble. Do we grieve at this? Far from it. We feel that life is over for us; our only thought is to escape its grasp and join our Little Blossom. We could never leave Bruno alone; he would grieve himself to death, and meanwhile, perhaps, be abused as a stupid brute for refusing to be comforted. So it is with a feeling of sad resignation that we realize how his hold on life is weakening. At least he will die in comfort, ministered to by his loved ones. We sit alone, we three, in the twilight,--Julius and I, with Bruno at our feet,--talking of the future. We speculate on the Beyond, hoping it will not be the conventional Heaven, with harps and crowns. We long for a sheltered nook, near the River of Life, where we and Little Blossom can resume the life so happily begun here, going over to the Happy Hunting Grounds to get Bruno, and to the Cat Heaven for Rebecca and Catsie. Then, our family circle complete, we would settle down to an eternity of HOME.