DEATH OF LITTLE MAMIE--A PROMISE.
As we have for a time lost sight of Richard Ashton and his family
we will now return to them. He had become almost an imbecile,
being a complete mental wreck, his family having to watch him as
they would a child to keep him from obtaining liquor. He was now
so weak in this respect that he would actually steal away, if he
could do so without being observed not returning until he was
brought back completely intoxicated.
They had become quite poor; for though Mr. Gurney was giving Eddy
a good salary for one of his years and experience, yet, as Allie,
who had become weak from worry and over-work, was forced for a
time to desist from giving music lessons, his earnings barely
sufficed to procure life's necessities.
Little Mamie was now becoming quite frail. She had in the early
part of the winter contracted a severe cold, which, having settled
on her lungs, congestion had ensued. She, after a protracted
illness, was now convalescent, yet it was evident she was not long
for earth, but, like a beautiful flower, was slowly fading away.
"Mamma," she said one day, "I am going to die. Oh, how sad it will
be to leave this beautiful world, and papa, and you, my mamma, and
Eddie, and Allie! But," she added, "I am going to the beautiful
home of which I was dreaming, to be with Jesus, who loves little
children. And then in a little while you and papa will come, and
we will live in one of the 'many mansions' which Jesus has gone to
prepare. I shall not be long with you here, mamma; but you will
come to be with me. Eddie and Allie will be coming too, some day,
when God calls them, and we will all be home together."
Her mother was deeply moved, but endeavored to conceal her emotion
from her little daughter.
"My darling must not talk of leaving us; we could not spare our
little Mamie. No doubt, dear, but you will get better, now the
spring is coming, and soon you will be out with the flowers."
Mrs. Ashton had to endure the agony that an intelligent, loving
mother must always experience when an almost idolized child, that
she could press to her heart forever, is fading from her. She
could see her dear, loving, bright little daughter--who was very
precocious, talking more like a girl of ten than one of only
five--slowly, almost imperceptibly, failing every day, and every day
becoming more bright and beautiful; but it was the beauty of the
flower that was to bloom but for a few hours, and then whither and
die away.
One day in the spring, as she was looking at her mother, who was
working among her flowers, she began coughing violently; Allie,
who had been attending to her household duties, now joining them,
stooped down to help her, but as she did so she saw her face was
of deathlike pallor, and that the blood was slowly oozing from her
mouth, staining her pale lips with its crimson tide.
"Mother! come quickly," she said, as she lifted Mamie in her arms
and ran with her into the house. She gently laid her on the sofa,
and then wiped the blood from her lips.
Mrs. Ashton, when she reached the sofa, found her heart beating
violently; but she resolutely forced back her emotion, so that she
might not agitate Mamie. As she took her eldest daughter's place,
she whispered: "Go to the garden, dear, and tell your father to
run for the doctor. He must make haste, for I am afraid Mamie is
dying."
Allie ran for her father, but, though he was there a short time
before, he could not now be found. The fact is, the wretched man,
who had been working in the vegetable-garden, had been watching
all morning for an opportunity to steal away and get a drink.
Finding the coast clear, when Mrs. Ashton and Allie had gone in
with Mamie, he, like a truant child stealing away from its
parents, glided out on to the sidewalk, and hastily made his way
to the nearest groggery.
Allie told her mother her father had disappeared, when the latter
requested her to hasten and tell the doctor to come immediately,
as the case was very urgent.
The doctor, when he arrived, endeavored to quiet Mrs. Ashton's
fears by assuring her there was no immediate danger; "but," he
gently continued, "she will not long be with you--two or three
days at the longest, and she may not linger that long."
When Eddie came home he went for his father, and found him in
Flannigan's groggery with several others who were unfortunates
like himself. At the voice of his son, he straightened himself up
as well as he could in his intoxicated condition, looking at him
with a sort of dazed, stupid stare; but as Eddie went over to him,
saying, "Come, father, we want you at home," he took his arm and
walked quietly away.
When they arrived at the house, Eddie took him round the back way
so as not to disturb the dying child, and after requesting him to
be as quiet as possible, as Mamie was seriously ill, he then went
in and told his mother his father was safe at home.
Eddie and Allie wished their mother to rest for a time, as they
thought if she did not do so the fatigue and worry might result
disastrously to her. But she was firm in her resolve not to leave
the bedside of her dying child, so that all their solicitations
were in vain.
Mrs. Gurney came to remain all night with them, so Eddie and Allie
retired. Mrs. Ashton was very grateful for this practical
expression of sympathy for this noble Christian woman. Mamie
passed the night quietly--not suffering excessive pain, but they
concluded she was growing weaker, the end being not far off.
She was peacefully sleeping about five o'clock, and Allie having
awakened joined the watchers; she, with the assistance of Mrs.
Gurney, finally prevailed upon her mother to lie down, and, if
possible, snatch a little sleep. About six o'clock Mrs. Gurney
noticed there was a change for the worse in the little slumberer,
and she had just remarked it to Allie, when Mamie languidly opened
her large blue eyes--which now shone as if they reflected the
light of the heavenly land--"Mamma! Mamma!" she called in a low
but very distinct voice.
Allie bent over her and asked, "What is it darling? Mamma has gone
to lie down for a little while."
Mamie closed her eyes for a moment, and then opening them, said,
"Call her, and call papa and Eddie, for I think I am dying."
Allie quietly left her side to call her mother. Eddie having just
arrived glided silently into the room, and then went to call his
father. He experienced difficulty in awakening him, who, though he
appeared to be in a stupor, no sooner heard that Mamie had asked
for him, and that she said she was dying, than he, having dressed,
made haste to go to her. When he arrived in the room he eagerly
asked his wife, "Is Mamie worse? You had better make haste, Eddie,
and run for the doctor."
Mamie looked up as she heard her father's voice. "My own dear
papa!" she murmured; and then she continued, "don't go, Eddie; if
you do I shall never see you again, for I shall have gone home
before you return."
"Papa, Mamma," she said, "each of you give me a hand." Her father
taking her right hand and her mother her left, she continued,
"Papa, I want you to promise me you will never drink again. I am
going to be with Jesus, and when I look down from heaven I want to
see my papa good, and not doing anything to make my mamma grieve
so, because then I shall grieve too. I know I shall feel so sorry
when I am in heaven, if my darling papa is out with the naughty
men drinking; for my mamma will come some day to meet me, but the
Bible says no drunkard can enter there; so if my papa dies a
drunkard I shall never see him again. Oh papa! shall I meet only
my mamma there, and will not my papa come too? Shall I look and
look for papa, and never find him?"
She paused for breath, looking inquiringly at her father. The
effort had evidently taken from her most of her rapidly failing
strength, and every individual in the room was sobbing before she
had finished speaking.
"God bless you, my darling!" replied her father, "I will promise
never to drink again, and God helping me, I will keep my promise."
"Kiss me, papa, mamma, all." They each lovingly kissed her, she
murmured "thank you for--" but she could say no more, her eyes
speaking the gratitude her failing voice could not utter. Her eyes
closed for a moment, and then slowly opening, she, turning them
upon all, faintly whispered, "Good-bye," and then they closed
never to open again to the light of this life. She lingered on as
if sleeping quietly with a sweet smile of peace irradiating her
face, and sank gently to rest, so gently they could not tell the
exact moment of her departure.