"Friends! dear friends! 'There is a friend—'" to Lacy.
He finished the sentence—"That sticketh closer than a brother."
"Yes:—I remember—who is able to save—to—the—utter most—" his voice died away. When next his eyes moved, it was slowly and painfully; but their restless light was not extinct. The stiffening mouth contracted.
"He says 'Pray!'" said Ida to Morton.
Every head was bowed; and the opening sentence of the prayer brought a deeper quiet to every heart.
"'Lord! Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations!'"
The language was simple, scriptural and fervent,—the pleading of a son, in behalf of a brother, with an indulgent Parent. As he repeated the text, Lynn had dwelt upon, Ida felt the feeble pressure of his hand;—he was alive and conscious then. The rest arose at the "Amen." She had not knelt; but she did not raise her head from the pillow;—her soul had caught the farewell of his, as it flew away upon its long journey! There was a movement through the room—a breathless pause—a solemn voice said "He is gone!" and tears and sobbings broke forth.
His hand still held hers; and the other was folded over them in supplication;—the eyes still looked heavenward—but they were fixed.
Dead! dead! in his glorious beauty—in the flush of youth! deaf to the recall of mourning hearts—and the awakening echoes of the fame his genius had won! If he could die, who was sure of an hour of life.