“That, too, was a joyful time, but my after-visits to my little family were saddened by my wife’s ill health; she was never well after Gracie’s birth, but grew more and more feeble year by year till the end came.”
A heavy sigh followed the concluding words, and for some moments he sat silent, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the floor.
“Were you with her at the last?” asked Violet, in low, feeling tones.
“Yes; I have always been thankful for that. She was a Christian, and for her death had no terrors; she was glad to go, except when she thought of the parting from her dear ones.
“‘My little children! my poor soon-to-be-motherless darlings!’ she moaned one day, as I sat by her side, with her hand in mine; ‘what is to become of them!’
“I assured her I would do my best for them; earnestly endeavoring to be father and mother both in one.
“‘But, oh, you can not, because you will be forced to leave them for months or years together,’ she sobbed: ‘ah, the only bitterness of death to me is leaving them and you, my dear, dear husband.’
“I could only remind her of God’s gracious promises to the seed of the righteous, and his tender care for all helpless ones, and entreat her to trust them implicitly to Him; and at length she seemed able to do so.
“She died in my arms, her dear eyes gazing into mine with a look of intense affection which I can never forget.”
He was silent for a moment, then resumed his narrative.