But his death-stricken face was radiant through his tears:—radiant with intense joy.
John sat silently contemplating a small image of white marble, which he had taken from one of the drawers of the bureau. It represented the Master on the cross.
"Better go to God, and trust him, than trust to the mercy of man," he frequently murmured.
After much silent thought he rose, and, from beneath the bureau drew forth two objects into the light—a sack and a small plaster furnace. He placed the furnace in the center of the floor, and half filled it with lighted coals from the grate. Then he poured the contents of the sack upon the burning coals; his hands trembling, and his eyes, fiery as they were, suddenly dimmed by moisture.
"Charcoal, good charcoal—such a blessing to the poor! Nelly didn't know what a blessing it was, when I sent her for it this afternoon—that is, yesterday afternoon. It takes fire—it burns—such a mild, rich blue flame! Opium and charcoal are the poor man's best friends. They cost so little, and they save one from so much,"—as he knelt on the floor, he cast his gaze over his shoulder toward the bed—"so very much! They will save us all from so much!"
Nelly murmured in her sleep, and rose in bed, and, opening her eyes, gazed at her brother, kneeling by the lighted furnace, with a wild dreamy stare. Then she lay down and slept again.
The charcoal burned brightly, its pale blue flame casting a spectral glow over the face of the kneeling man, so haggard and death-stricken. The noxious gas began to fill the room. John rose and went, with unsteady steps to the window, and eagerly inhaled the fresh air. Resting his arms upon the sash, he felt the cold air upon his cheek, and looked out and upward,—there was the dark blue sky set with stars.
"In which of them, I wonder, will we all meet again?" he said, in a wandering way. Then he tottered from the window to the bed. The air was stifling. He breathed only in gasps.
By the bed again, gazing upon them all,—wife, sister, children,—so beautiful in their slumber.
And they began to move restlessly in their sleep, and mutter half-coherent words, and—"In the spring time, John, we'll gather flowers," said Nelly; "You'll be better soon, John," whispered the wife; and all was still again.