And while she was looking about her, and wondering at all she saw, she
happened to think once more of the _forget-me-not_, and to wish herself
back again! At that instant she heard a great heavy bell booming and
tolling,--she knew it was tolling--and she knew she was too late--and
she knew that her mother was dead of a broken heart,--and she fell upon
her face, and stretched forth her hands with a shriek, and prayed God to
forgive her! and allow her to see her mother once more,--only once more!
"Why, what ails the child?" whispered somebody that seemed to be
stooping over her.
It was her mother's voice! and poor Ruth was afraid to look up lest it
should all vanish forever.
"Upon my word, Sarah," said another voice,--it was her father's,--"upon
my word, Sarah, I do not know; but the poor little creature's thoughts
appear to have undergone another change. I have heard nothing to-day of
the forget-me-not which troubled her so the first week, have you?"
"She has mentioned it but once to-day, and then she shuddered; but
perhaps we had better keep it in the glass till we see whether it will
bear to be transplanted, for she seems to have set her little heart upon
having that flower live; I wish I knew why!"
"Do you, indeed, mamma?" whispered poor Ruth, still without looking up;
"well, then, I will tell you.
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