Ned gave a little nod, and, taking his brother's hand, opened the door of the parlor.
Captain Sankey was lying on the hearth rug, his head propped up with pillows from the sofa; his face was an ashen pallor, and his eyes were closed. The doctor was kneeling beside him, pouring some liquid from a glass between his lips. A strong friendship had sprung up between the two men, and tears were running fast down the doctor's cheeks. He motioned to the boys to approach. They fell on their knees by their father's side.
“Sankey,” the doctor said in a steady voice, “here are your boys, Ned and Charlie.”
The eyes of the dying man opened slowly, and he looked at his sons, and Ned felt a slight pressure of the hand which he had taken in his own.
“God bless you, my boys!” he said, in a faint whisper. “Ned, be kind to your mother; care for her always. She will need all your kindness.”
“I will, father,” the boy said steadily. “I will take care of mother, I promise you.”
A faint smile passed over the pale face; then the eyes closed again, and there was silence for five minutes, broken only by the sobbing of the younger boy. The doctor, who had his fingers on the pulse of Captain Sankey, leaned closely over him; then he laid his arm gently down, and putting his hand on Ned's shoulder said softly:
“Come, my boy, your father is out of pain now.”
Ned gave one loud and bitter cry, and threw himself down by the side of the corpse, and gave way to his pent up emotion.
The doctor led the younger boy from the room, and gave him into the care of Abijah. Then he returned and stood for awhile watching Ned's terrible outburst of grief; then he poured some wine into a glass.