"Oh, but it is an angel!" cried the prisoner, a smile lighting his
haggard face. "An angel from heaven; I must be going to die."
"No, poor man, it's little Lily," said the child, and she slid a round
arm about his neck. "I am so sorry for you!"
The prisoner burst into passionate weeping, and kissed the small hand
that lay upon his shoulder.
The jailer blew his nose like a trumpet.
"You may be called anything," said the prisoner, "but you are surely an
angel."
From this time Lily came to see her prisoner every day, and he grew
almost gay.
In the meantime the water-lily drooped and died, but she was happy, for
she had fulfilled her mission.
The prisoner took the dead flower and laid it on his heart. "Poor
little dead flower," he said, "it was you who brought me my little
comforter."
As he said these words he fancied he felt the dead flower move; but it
might have been the beating of his own heart.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM, DOT AND TALKING MOUSE AND OTHER
BEDTIME STORIES***
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