She will be here," Mr.Maxwell said as he sat there, his face showing marks of the strain of the week's vigil; for he had insisted on sitting up nearly every night.
"I shall never see her in this world," the man whispered.

Then he uttered with great difficulty the words, "You have been good to me.
Somehow I feel as if it was what Jesus would do." After a few minutes he turned his head slightly, and before Mr.
Maxwell could realize the fact, the doctor said quietly, "He is gone." The Sunday morning that dawned on the city of Raymond was exactly like the Sunday of a week before.

Mr.Maxwell entered his pulpit to face one of the largest congregations that had ever crowded the First Church.

He was haggard and looked as if he had just risen from a long illness.

His wife was at home with the little girl, who had come on the morning train an hour after her father had died.