Mrs. Arnold was
alone--for evermore in this life. Not until the sea and earth give up
their dead--not until the Book of Life might be opened and mankind
summoned before the White Throne on high, were these two destined to
look into each other's face again. Mrs. Arnold could not foresee the
solemn significance of her words as, for the last time, she murmured:
"Agnes, my darling, my angel, good-by!"
IN THE MIDST OF DEATH.
In due course of time Agnes approached Shreveport. While in the cars
she had formed the acquaintance of three Sisters of Mercy, who were
bound upon a similar errand of kindness and peril to her own.
At first, upon learning whither she was going, and what her object
was, these pious ladies were thoroughly astonished; but when they
found by interrogation that she was really in earnest, their friendly
admiration became equal to their previous astonishment.
"Your services will be most welcome, Miss Arnold, I assure you," said
the eldest of the Sisters. "This is the third time I have been
summoned to nurse in yellow fever, and I know that there are never
one-half the number of nurses necessary."
A little short of the stricken city they were all stopped, and it
required the positive statement of the Sisters of Mercy that their
youthful, lovely companion was really going into the place for the
purpose of nursing the sick.
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