“I feel as if I had lost a stay or prop,” replied Mrs Seagrave. “So accustomed have I been to look to him for advice since we have been on this island. Had he not been thus snatched from us—had he been spared to us a few years, and had we been permitted to surround his death-bed, and close his eyes in peace—” and Mrs Seagrave wept upon the shoulder of her husband.
After a time, Mrs Seagrave recovered herself; but silence ensued, only broken by an occasional sob from poor Juno. William’s heart was too full; he could not for a long while utter a word; at last he said in a low voice:
“I feel that, next to my dear father and mother, I have lost my best friend. I cannot forgive myself for allowing him to go for the water; it was my duty to go, and I ought to have gone.”
“And yet we could have ill spared you, my dear boy; you might have perished,” replied Mrs Seagrave.
“It would have been as God willed,” replied William; “I might have perished, or I might not.”
“We never know what the morrow may bring forth,” said Mr Seagrave, “or what may be in store for us. Had not this misfortune happened, had old Ready been spared to us, how joyfully should I and all of you have quitted this island, full of anticipation, and indulging in worldly prospects. What a check have I received! I now am all thought and anxiety. I have said to myself, ‘we have been happy on this island; our wants have been supplied; even our comforts have been great. We have been under no temptations, for we have been isolated from the world; am I so sure that I shall be as happy in future as I have been? Am I confident, now my long-wished-for return to the world is about to take place, that I shall have no cause to lament that I ever quitted this peaceful, quiet spot?’ I feel that it is a duty to my family that I should return to society, but I am far from feeling that our happiness may be increased. We have, however, a plain precept to follow, which is, to do our duty in that state of life to which it has pleased God to call us.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs Seagrave; “I feel the truth of all you have just said. We are in his hands; let us put our trust in him.”
“We will,” replied Mr Seagrave; “but it is late, and we have to rise early to-morrow morning. This is the last evening which we shall pass on this island; let us return our thanks for the happiness we have enjoyed here. We thought to have quitted this spot in joy,—it is his will that we should leave it in sorrow.”
Mr Seagrave took down the Bible, and after he had read a chapter, he poured forth a prayer suited to their feelings, and they all retired to repose.
The next morning they were up early, and packed up the few articles which still remained to go on board. Mr Seagrave read the prayers, and they went to breakfast. Few words were exchanged, for there was a solemn grief upon all of them. They waited for the arrival of Captain Osborn and the crew of the schooner to attend the funeral of poor old Ready. William, who had gone out occasionally to look at the vessel, now came in, and said that two boats were pulling on shore. A few minutes afterwards, Captain Osborn and the commander of the schooner soon made their appearance. The coffin had been brought on shore; the body of Ready was put into it, and it was screwed down.