'What now?' said Nell, soothing him. 'What is the matter?'
'She is not one yet!' cried the boy, embracing her still more
closely. 'No, no. Not yet.'
She looked at him wonderingly, and putting his hair back from his
face, and kissing him, asked what he meant.
'You must not be one, dear Nell,' cried the boy. 'We can't see
them. They never come to play with us, or talk to us. Be what you
are. You are better so.'
'I do not understand you,' said the child. 'Tell me what you
mean.'
'Why, they say , replied the boy, looking up into her face, that
you will be an Angel, before the birds sing again. But you won't
be, will you? Don't leave us Nell, though the sky is bright. Do
not leave us!'
The child dropped her head, and put her hands before her face.
'She cannot bear the thought!' cried the boy, exulting through his
tears. 'You will not go. You know how sorry we should be. Dear
Nell, tell me that you'll stay amongst us. Oh! Pray, pray, tell
me that you will.'
The little creature folded his hands, and knelt down at her feet.
'Only look at me, Nell,' said the boy, 'and tell me that you'll
stop, and then I shall know that they are wrong, and will cry no
more.
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