"Father, I will be a living warning and example to you, for know that I shall live in your memory you shall remember what I say to you that Jesus Christ is a dear friend to those that trust in him, and if he is not yours it will be because you will not let him. You shall remember my testimony, that he can make death sweeter than life in his presence is fulness of joy at his right hand there are pleasures for evermore. He is better, he is more to me, even than you all, and he will be to you a better friend than the poor child you are losing, though you do not know it now. It is he that has made my life in this world happy only he and I have nothing to look to but him in the world I am going to. But what will you do in the hour of death, as I am, if he isn't your friend, father?"
Mr. Rossitur's frame swayed like a tree that one sees shaken by a distant wind, but he said nothing.
"Will you remember me happily, father, if you come to die without having done as I begged you? Will you think of me in heaven, and not try to come there too? Father, will you be a Christian? will you not? for my sake for little Hugh's sake, as you used to call him? Father."
Mr. Rossitur knelt down and hid his face in the coverings, but he did not utter a word.
Hugh's eye dwelt on him for a moment with unspeakable expression, and his lip trembled. He said no more he closed his eyes, and, for a little time, there was nothing to be heard but the sobs, which could not be restrained, from all but the two gentlemen. It probably oppressed Hugh, for, after a while, he said, with a weary sigh, and without opening his eyes
"I wish somebody would sing."
Nobody answered at first.
"Sing what, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, putting aside her tears, and leaning her face towards him.
"Something that speaks of my want," said Hugh.
"What do you want, dear Hugh?"