"No, I will not do that, but I may have to leave you, Owen. The doctor says my heart is seriously diseased."
Mr. Hadleigh could get no further for the look of dismay that crept over his son's face. But, boy-like he would not let the tears fall, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the fire, till his voice was calm enough to say, "Perhaps the doctor was mistaken, and you may get better. Doctors are often wrong."
"It may be," returned Mr. Hadleigh, anxious not to grieve the boy too much at first.
While they were talking, Mr. Sturt, the vicar, came in, and Owen gladly took the opportunity of escaping upstairs for a while. It was a sore trouble to him, for he loved his father devotedly; but after the first grief was over, hope took her place again, and the boy went downstairs more cheerfully than his father expected.
The days and weeks passed by, and things went on much as usual for Owen. His father still taught in the school, and the boy did all he could to help him, sweeping out the schoolroom, and getting up in the dark mornings to light the fire before his father was out of bed—in every way he could, trying to lessen his father's work. But Mr. Hadleigh's health was not again alluded to. No doubt he spoke of it to Mrs. Mitchell, who was often in and out, but Owen heard nothing of it, and he began to hope it was all a mistake. The winter came in early, with sharp frosts and snow, and Owen, with his friend Sam, was often on the ponds a good part of the day, sliding and skating to his heart's content.
One evening, as he ran home glowing with exercise and fun, his father asked him, "How shall you like the town, Owen? It will be a great contrast to the country."
"I should not like it at all, father; except, I suppose, one can get more money there."
"Yes, I suppose so. Your uncle is reckoned a rich man, and he has always been annoyed with me that I did not go into business too; but I had no taste for it. Country life always had greater charms for me, even with less to live upon. But I think you will get on, Owen; you have more push in you than I ever had. Only don't let the earthly fortune that you desire, blind your eyes to the heavenly riches. I neglected them too long, and though I can thank God that He has saved me, yet I often fear I shall have little reward yonder, for I have hidden my hope in my own breast, and have been content to keep my riches to myself, instead of trading with them. Mind that you do otherwise, Owen. Seek first the kingdom of God, and all other things needful, food and clothing, shall be added unto you."
These were the last words that Owen ever heard from his father's lips. He had not seemed worse that night, but before the next morning he had passed away. At first Owen was inconsolable, and would not be comforted at all. But kind neighbours gathered round, and in the evening his uncle arrived, having been telegraphed for by Mr. Sturt, according to Mr. Hadleigh's instructions.
Mr. James Hadleigh was a great contrast to his brother; he was a strong, active man, quick, business-like, and energetic. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and speedily made all arrangements. He could not stay long in the village, of course; he had his business to attend to. But he had promised his brother to look after Owen, and he would take him back with him. A few of his brother's belongings were packed up for the boy, but the rest Mr. James Hadleigh decided should be sold. There were several things that Owen greatly desired to keep; the arm-chair that his father used, a small cabinet which contained botanical specimens that his father had collected, some books of his mother's, and other treasures. But his uncle spoke decidedly—