Their Little Place Was Only Half A Mile Or So From The House, And Every Day My Mother Visited Her, Doing All That Was Possible With Such Skill And Remedies As She Possessed To Give Her Ease, And Providing Her With Delicacies.

The girl did not want a priest to visit her and prepare her for death; she worshipped her mistress, and wished to be of the same faith, and in the end she died a pervert or convert, according to this or that person's point of view.

The day after her death we children were taken to see our beloved Margarita for the last time; but when we arrived at the door, and the others following my mother went in, I alone hung back. They came out and tried to persuade me to enter, even to pull me in, and described her appearance to excite my curiosity. She was lying all in white, with her black hair combed out and loose, on her white bed, with our flowers on her breast and at her sides, and looked very, very beautiful. It was all in vain. To look on Margarita dead was more than I could bear. I was told that only her body of clay was dead - the beautiful body we had come to say good bye to; that her soul - she herself, our loved Margarita - was alive and happy, far, far happier than any person could ever be on this earth; that when her end was near she had smiled very sweetly, and assured them that all fear of death had left her - that God was taking her to Himself.

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