“God grant none of us may miss it!” he exclaimed low and feelingly.
“I’m very glad to find you so free from fear of death,” remarked her Uncle George, taking her other hand and holding it in a tender, loving clasp, “for it will be easier for you on that account, whatever the future may have in store for you. Try, dear child, just to leave the whole matter in the Lord’s hands and be ready to go or stay as He may see fit to appoint.”
“And if I am taken, you will try to comfort my dear sisters and brother, won’t you, uncles? for I know they will be full of sorrow, for a time at least.”
Both gave the promise she asked; then after a little more tenderly kind talk they bade her an affectionate good-night and went away, for they saw that she was weary and in need of rest.
But they and some of the cousins were there frequently during the few weeks that she lingered on this side of the river of death, doing all in their power to add to her comfort and happiness. But the nursing fell to Dorothy and the brother and sisters, who one and all esteemed it a privilege to be with and wait upon the patient, uncomplaining sufferer.
They were all about her when, one lovely spring morning, she passed away to the better land, going so peacefully and quietly that they scarcely knew the precise moment when the redeemed spirit took its flight.
It was Dorothy who first perceived that the change had come.
“Dear blessed one!” she sobbed, her tears falling like rain as she bent down over the still form, laid a hand tenderly upon the cold forehead, and gently closed the eyes. “She has left us to be forever with the Lord, and is even now singing the song of redeeming love.”
“Yes; it is a blessed change for her,” sobbed Ethel, kneeling on the other side of the bed with one cold hand fast clasped in hers, “but oh, how can we ever learn to live without her!”
“Oh, how can we!” cried Blanche, weeping as if her heart would break, while Harry, with a groan of anguish, rushed from the room to lock himself in his own.