Effie beckoned to her sister.
“Try, Christie; try,” she said.
But Christie’s lips could utter no sound. John Nesbitt began, “The Lord’s my Shepherd;” and in a little time several trembling voices joined. When they came to the verse:
“Yea, though I walk through Death’s dark vale,
Yet will I fear no ill;
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still,—”
they rose full, clear, and triumphant. They were the last sounds he heard on earth. When they ended, Mrs Nesbitt’s hand was gently laid on their father’s eyelids, and at the sight of that the children knew they were orphans.
Chapter Five.
Clouds and sunshine.
When a great sorrow has just fallen upon us, we find it impossible to feel that all things about us are not changed. We cannot imagine ourselves falling into the old daily routine again. The death of one dear to us gives us a shock which seems to unsettle the very foundation of things. A sense of insecurity and unreality pervades all that concerns us. We shrink from the thought that the old pleasures will charm us again, that daily cares will occupy our minds to the exclusion of to-day’s sadness, that time will heal the wounds that smart so bitterly now.