"Mother and sister are in there." The lady, accompanied by one or two others, hastened to the wood-house.
"Where is she ?" asked the foremost, for in the gloom of the place she could not perceive anything.
"Here," replied Clarence, "she's lying here." On opening a small window, they saw Mrs.Garie lying in a corner stretched upon the boards, her head supported by some blocks.

"She's asleep," said Clarence.

"Mother--mother," but there came no answer.

"MOTHER," said he, still louder, but yet there was no response.
Stepping forward, one of the females opened the shawl, which was held firmly in the clenched hands of Mrs.Garie--and there in her lap partially covered by her scanty nightdress, was discovered a new-born babe, who with its mother had journeyed in the darkness, cold, and night, to the better land, that they might pour out their woes upon the bosom of their Creator.
The women gazed in mournful silence on the touching scene before them.
Clarence was on his knees, regarding with fear and wonder the unnatural stillness of his mother--the child had never before looked on death, and could not recognize its presence.

Laying his hand on her cold cheek, he cried, with faltering voice, "Mother, _can't_ you speak ?" but there was no answering light in the fixed stare of those glassy eyes, and the lips of the dead could not move.