Mrs. Gilbert saw a shudder run through her frame; and took hold of her to persuade her away. She saw that the shock had been too great for the overtasked nerves; and was almost glad when with a stagger the bereaved mother fell back insensible into her arms. Motioning to Mr. Dudley, he carried his wife from the chamber, and laid her on a bed in what she called Edward's room, where Mrs. Gilbert watched by her side, while Paul, in a fever of remorse, by turns walked the floor, and passionately kissed the cold lips of his unconscious wife. Gerry's swoon was of so long continuance that when she revived, Marion's loving hands had prepared the body of little Rose for its final resting place. When the tiny fingers were folded, Bridget, with a fresh burst of grief, begged Miss Gilbert to place within them an exquisite rose bud, which she had expended one quarter of her week's earnings to purchase at the stall opposite. "It's the last poor Bridget can do for ye," she sobbed, rushing from the room. "I'd give a year of my poor life in a minute," she exclaimed afterward to Mrs. Gilbert, "if the precious angel could have been spared to her mother for a little while. Then they would both have gone together; for any one must be blind not to see the Father is preparing to take her home to himself." CHAPTER XIII. UNAPPRECIATED. BUT God had work on earth for Gertrude to do on earth. Some weeks after the funeral, (the body having been placed in a receiving tomb until the weather permitted its removal to Rose Cottage) Edward wrote, begging his sister and her friend to come East, for the remainder of the winter, promising to go for them if Paul could not leave. For a moment the bright color flashed over the wan cheek at the prospect of returning to scenes so dear; but after some reflection, she concluded not to accept the invitation at present. "I am sure Paul would miss me," she explained to her friend. "He has been so loving and kind since our little Rose went to her Saviour. Perhaps if I let him see how God sustains me, he himself will ask for support. I know my duty is here now." She thought by Marion's silence that she was disappointed, and presently added: "You will go home with me in the spring, dear; and we will take the baby and lay her to rest under the linden trees, where the first violets grow; and the robins sing their earliest songs." "Yes," murmured Marion, "I will go then." One day Mrs. Gilbert was surprised by a sight of Gerty's pale face peeping out from her close mourning hat walking into the pastor's study. "I am going to work again," she said earnestly. "I thought it all over last night, while I was waiting for my husband to come home. It will not make me think less of Rose, if I return to my books. My heart is full of her all the time; and I might be more useful to somebody if I had more knowledge."