I often think about them--I can't help it--and it makes me feel so sad." He was silent for a moment.

"I wish I could see them," he added dreamily, "that I could tell them how I love her, and how kind she has been to me, and--and that she isn't so _very_ unhappy." Mrs.Lang had stood staring down at him speechless, stricken suddenly numb and dumb with an awful overwhelming terror.
"Charlie--you--you ain't feeling ill--worse--are you?
What's the matter, dear?
Why do you talk so?
What do you mean by 'when you go away' ?" Her lips could scarcely form the last words, for she knew as well as he could tell her.

It had come suddenly to her understanding that he was going a long, long journey--and soon; the last journey, from which there was no returning.
With a heart-broken cry she fell on her knees by the bed.

"You ain't going, you shan't! Charlie, you shan't go away from me--you must stay with me till I go too--" "You will come to me, mother, but I shall go first, and I'll tell God all about how you have had to work, and how hard it has been for you, and He will understand--" "You can't--you mustn't go! Oh, my dear, my dear, don't leave me." "Oh, mother, I am _so_ tired, and I--I think I want to go, but I want you to come too.

You will, won't you, mother ?" and he tried again to draw her face down to his.
"I will try," she promised faintly, and then burst into a passion of heart-broken sobs.
A month later, when in the country the hedges were full of primroses and violets, and pure little daisies, Charlie took the last steps of his painful journey, and reached the "rest" for which he craved.
It was on a Saturday that his brief journey through this life ended, and on the Sunday those whom he had loved--his mother, and Jessie, Miss Patch and Tom Salter--gathered in the little bare, quiet bedroom, with him in the midst of them once more, but so silent now, so very quiet and still.
"I am sure he is with us in spirit, the darling," said Miss Patch softly, as she looked at the worn little face, so peaceful now, and free from the drawn lines of pain they had worn hitherto; and, while they all knelt around his bed, she said a few simple prayers, such as went straight to their sad hearts, and sowed the germs, at least, of comfort there; and while they still knelt, thinking their own sad thoughts, her sweet voice broke softly into song.
"Sleep on, beloved, sleep and take thy rest.
Lay down thy head upon thy Saviour's breast, We love thee well, but Jesus loves thee best-- Good-night!" The others knelt, rapt, breathless, afraid to move lest they should break the spell and the sweet singing, or lose one of the beautiful words.