silent yet fervent prayer,
that wish was still powerful within; it was the only thought of earth
that lingered.

"Tell him," he said, and his voice sounded weaker and weaker, "tell him,
Herbert's last prayer was for him, that he was in my last thoughts; tell
him to seek for comfort at the foot of that Throne where we have so
often knelt together. Oh, let him not sorrow, for I shall be happy--oh,
so happy!"

Again he was silent, and for a much longer interval; but when he
reopened his eyes, they were fixed on Ellen.

"My sister, my kind and tender nurse, what shall I say to you?" he said,
languidly, but in a tone that thrilled to her aching heart. "I can but
commend you to His care, who can take from grief its sting, even as He
hath clothed this moment in victory. May His spirit rest upon you,
Ellen, and give you peace. May He bless you, not only for your
affectionate kindness towards me, but to her who went before me. You
will not forget, Ellen." His glance wandered from his cousin to his
mother, and then returned to her. She bowed her head upon his extended
hand, but her choking voice could speak no word. "Caroline, too, she
will weep for me, but St. Eval will dry her tears; tell them I did not
forget them; that my love and blessing is theirs even as if they had
been around me. Emmeline, Arthur,--Mr. Howard, oh, where are you? my
eyes are dim, my voice is failing, yet"--

"I am here, my beloved son," said the Archdeacon, and Herbert fixed a
kind glance upon his face, and leaned his head against him.

"I would tell you, that it is the sense of the Divine presence, of love,
unutterable, infinite, inexhaustible, that has taken all anguish from
this moment. My spirit rises triumphant, secure of eternal salvation,
triumphing in the love of Him who died for me. Oh, Death, well may I
say, where is thy sting? oh, grave, where is thy victory? they are
passed; heaven is opening. Oh, bliss unutterable, undying!" He sunk back
utterly exhausted, but the expression of his countenance still evinced
the internal triumph of his soul.

A faint sound, as of the distant trampling of horses, suddenly came upon
the ear. Nearer, nearer still, and a flush of excitement rose to
Herbert's cheek. "Percy--can it be? My God, I thank thee for this
mercy!"

Arthur darted from the room, as the sound appeared rapidly approaching;
evidently it was a horse urged to its utmost speed, and it could be none
other save Percy. Arthur flew across the