All at once, however, he started and looked about him; but in a manner that betokened delight rather than alarm--his eyes brightened--and an expression almost of radiance settled upon his face.

"Mother," said he, "kiss me, and let Mr.Harman kiss me." They both did so, and his poor mother felt her heart relieved, by the happiness depicted on his face.

"Glory be to God," she exclaimed, "see what a change for the better has come over my blessed child." Father Roche looked at Harman, and shook his head--"Blessed he will be soon," said he, in a low whisper, "the child is dying." The boy started again, and the former serenity lit up his pale features.
"Bryan, you are better, darling of my life; you look a thousand pounds better than you did awhile ago." The boy looked into her face and smiled.---"I am," said he, "but did you not hear it ?" "Hear what, jewel of my heart ?" "There it is again;" said he, looking eagerly and delightfully about him, "my father's voice;--that's three times it called, me, but it didn't come from the bed, although he's in it.

I will kiss him and then sleep--but I will miss his arms from about me, I think." He then fixed himself beside that loving parent, aided by his mother, and getting his arm around his pulseless neck, he kissed him, and laying down his fair head, he fell asleep in that affecting posture.

There was a solemn stillness for some minutes, and a strange feeling of fear crept over his mother's heart.