Perhaps the good Colonel had more than a jest at heart when he referred to the matter, for the ills of life come surely in train of age, and the summons reached Mountain Place on an early morning of September. It was a shock to the ladies, this forerunner of a parting from one who had been so stanch a friend, and so inconsiderate a visitor, as their brother insisted.
Just as the carryall came in sight of the Colonel’s homestead, the first twitter of awakening birds brought a new sense of life and activity into the world. The dark forest behind the house sent forth a thousand notes of welcome to the day, and the clear spring, where the old horse turned to drink, added its gentle murmur.
Mrs. Mountain was touched, her eyes moistened.
“Alas!” she said, noting the movement of the old gray, “the world never stops for any of us. The birds sing, the horse wants to drink, the sunlight flashes over the farm, just as if the good man that has lived so long to lighten the cares of others, was not passing away.”
“Passing away! Yes, passing away,” and the solemn voice of her sister, seemed like an echo from the hills.
It was the usual trouble, a shock of paralysis, and the faithful doctor gave little encouragement, yet he thought it possible the Colonel’s speech might become clear again, and when the stupor that enthralled the poor man had passed, the pale eye wandered about the room. Words were unnecessary, the watchers understood that he wanted a hand laid in his own, and Letitia gently slid her soft palm beneath the chilled fingers. Honora as promptly took her place at the other side, stroking the withered arm that lay motionless upon the bed.
The doctor opened the window, and as the delicious breath of the pines crept in, the sick man stirred. He moved his head restlessly. But when Mrs. Mountain would have left her place to rearrange his pillows, suddenly his tongue loosed and he spoke, feebly indeed, and with an effort, but the words fell distinctly upon the listeners.
“Years ago, I wanted—I intended she should be my wife if——” He stopped. Presently he gave evidence that the same thought was still in his mind.
“Yes,” he murmured, “but I love her just as well.”
The doctor moistened the dry lips, and the sisters both moved as if to assist, but one lifeless hand pressed heavily, and the poor member with a little vitality motioned Mrs. Mountain not to stir.