The time sped swiftly, but to the dying child it seemed an age. She lay there; her life breath ebbing fast, waiting for her mother, that she may die in her arms. Angels filled the lowly cabin, and held their outstretched arms to receive the spirit of a sinless babe, as soon as it would leave the mortal clay it animated. Soon, soon would it have been borne on high, for the rattle in the child's throat had almost commenced, when a hurried footstep was heard at the door, and Mrs. Wentworth, pale and tired entered the room. The hand of Death was stayed for awhile, for the presence of the mother started anew the arteries of life, and the blood once more rushed to the cheeks of the dying. Ella held out her arms as her mother approached her, with some medicine in her hand. As she gazed upon her child, Mrs. Wentworth started back, and uttered a faint exclamation of anguish. She saw the worst at a glance, and placing aside the medicine, she seized her child's extended hands, and bending over her, pressed her darling daughter to her heart. "Here aunty," she said, as soon us she had released Ella, "Here is some money, run and call a physician at once." The old negro took the money and moved off. "Tell him to come instantly," she called out after the negro. "It is a matter of life and death, and there is no time to lose." "Too late, too late! poor people," said the old woman, as she hurried on her mission of mercy. It was too late. No science on earth could save Ella from death, and none on high save the Infinite Power, but He knew not of it. His eyes were still turned away from the Soldier's Wife and her children. Mrs. Wentworth remained silent, looking at her child as she gasped for breath. Of what use was the money she had committed a crime to obtain? Of what avail were her supplications to God? It were thoughts like these that passed rapidly through her mind, as she speechlessly gazed at the fast sinking form of her child. Ella saw her agony, and tried to soothe her mother. "Come nearer to me, mother," she said. "Come near and speak to me." Mrs. Wentworth drew near the bedside, and bent her face to the child. "What do you wish, darling?" she asked. "Mother, I am dying--I am going to Heaven," Ella said, speaking with an effort. A smothered sob, was the only response she met with. "Don't cry mother," continued the child. "I am going to a good place, and do not feel afraid to die." Shaking off her half maddened feeling, Mrs. Wentworth replied. "Don't speak that way, darling. You are not going to die. The physician will soon be here, and he will give you some thing which will get you better." Ella smiled faintly. "No, mother, I cannot get better; I know I am going to die. Last night, while sleeping, an angel told me in my dream, that I would sleep with God to-night." "That was only a dream, darling," Mrs. Wentworth replied, "you will get well and live a long time."