"I am in haste," he said, "to console my friends, from whom I have been detained too long. I was at Saardam yesterday, and did not hear of the event till this morning. I am in haste to join my friends; but I must first know in what frame the husband,--the father,--died. Can you tell me what were the last moments which I ought to have attended?"
The officer declared that they were most edifying. The patient's mind was quite collected.
"Thank God!" exclaimed M. Aymond, the divine.
"Quite collected," continued the officer, "and full of thought for those he left behind, as he showed by the very last thing he said. He had most carefully arranged his affairs, and given all his directions in many forms; but he remembered, just in time, that he had omitted one thing. He called Mr. Heins to his bed-side, and said, 'my son, there is one debtor of ours from whom you will scarce recover payment, as I never could. Meyerlaut has for many months evaded paying me for the last ebony we sold to him. Let him therefore make my coffin.--Stay!--I have not done yet.--You will, in course of nature, outlive your mother. Let her have a handsome coffin from the same man; and if it should please Heaven to take more of you, as our beloved Willebrod was taken, you will bear the same thing in mind, Heins, I doubt not; for you have always been a dutiful son.'"
"This is the way Heins told you the fact?" asked Aymond. "Well, but were these the last,--the very last words of the dying man?"
Heins had mentioned nothing that was said afterwards; so the divine pursued his way into the house with a sad countenance. Instead of joining the guests in the outer apartment, he used the privilege of his office, and of his intimacy with the family, and passed through to the part of the house where he knew he should find the widow and her young people. Heins met him at the door, saying,
"I knew you would come. I have been persuading my mother to wait, assuring her that you would come. How we have wished for you! How we----"
Aymond, having grasped the hand of Heins, passed him to return the widow's greeting. She first stood to receive the blessing he bestowed in virtue of his office, and then, looking him calmly in the face, asked him if he had heard how God had been pleased to make her house a house of mourning.
"I find dust and ashes where I looked for the face of a friend," replied the divine. "Can you submit to Heaven's will?"
"We have had grace to do so thus far," replied the widow. "But whether it will be continued to us when----"