But still her arms was round the boy,--white, soft arms of flesh, that held him close to her heart. And at the very last, she fixed her eyes on him; and, oh! what a look that was,--a look of such full peace, and rapturous content, as if she knew all, and was satisfied with all that should happen to him. As if her care for him, her love for him, had blossomed, and bore the ripe fruit of blessedness. At last that beautiful light grew dimmer, and more dim, till it was gone--gone with the pure soul of our sweet Cicely. That night, way along in the night, I wuzn't sleeping, and I wuzn't crying, though I had loved Cicely so well. No: I felt lifted up in my mind, inspired, as if I had seen somethin' so beautiful that I could never forget it. I felt perhaps somethin' as our old 4 mothers did when they would see an angel standin' with furled wings outside their tents. I thought Josiah was asleep; but it seems he wuzn't, for he spoke out sort o' decided like,-- “Most probable it was the lamp.” CHAPTER XIII. It was a lovely mornin' about three weeks after Cicely's death. Josiah had to go to Jonesville to mill, and the boy wanted to go to; and so I put on his little cloak and hat, and told him he might go. We didn't act cast down and gloomy before the boy, Josiah and me didn't. He had worried for his ma dretfully, at first. But we had made every thing of him, and petted him. And I had told him that she had gone to a lovely place, and was there a waitin' for him. And I would say it to him with as cheerful a face as I could. (I knew I could do my own cryin', out to one side.) And he believed me. He believed every word I said to him. And he would ask me sights and sights of questions about “the _place_.” And “if it was inside the gate, that uncle Josiah had read about,--that gate that was big and white, like a pearl? And if it would float down through the sky some day, and stand still in front of him? And would the gate swing open so he could see into the City? and would it be all glorious with golden streets, and shining, and full of light? And would his mamma Cicely stand just inside, and reach out her arms to him?--those pretty white arms.” And then the boy would sob and cry. And I'd soothe him, and swaller hard, and say “Yes,” and didn't think it was wicked, when he would be a sobbin' so. And then he'd ask, “Would she take him in her arms, and be glad to see her own little boy again? And would he have long to wait?” And I'd comfort him, and tell him, “No, it wouldn't be but a little time to wait.” And didn't think it was wicked, for it wuzn't long anyway. For “our days are but shadows that flee away.” Wall, he loved us, some. And we loved him, and did well by him; and bein' a child, we could sometimes comfort him with childish things. And this mornin' he wus all excitement about goin' to Jonesville with his uncle Josiah. And I gin him some pennys to get some oranges for him and the babe, and they set off feelin' quite chirk.