This was interrupted, at length, by the mother's unrestrained sobs, as she laid her face upon the bosom of her husband, so soon to be taken from her, and wept aloud.
No word of remonstrance or comfort came from the sick man's lips.

He only drew his arm about the weeper's neck, and held her closer to his heart.
The troubled waters soon ran clear: there was calmness in their depths.
"It is but for a little while, Fanny," said he, in a feeble yet steady voice; "only for a little while." "I know; I feel that here," was replied, as a thin, white hand was laid against the speaker's bosom.

"And I could patiently await my time, but"---- Her eyes glanced yearningly toward the child, who sat gazing upon her parents, with an instinct of approaching evil at her heart.
Too well did the dying man comprehend the meaning of this glance.
"God will take care of her.

He will raise her up friends," said he quickly; yet, even as he spoke, his heart failed him.
"All that is left to us is our trust in Him," murmured the wife and mother.

Her voice, though so low as to be almost a whisper, was firm.
She realized, as she spoke, how much of bitterness was in the parting hours of the dying one, and she felt that duty required her to sustain him, so far as she had the strength to do so.