t to envy you. You hardly know how
much you are to be envied. You have no more partings to fear; your
beautiful past is all folded up, to be creased and tarnished no more.
You have had the love of wife and child--the one thing that I have
missed. You have had fame too; and you have drunk far deeper of the cup
of suffering than I. I look upon you," he said laughingly, "as an old
home-keeping captain, who has never done anything but garrison duty,
might look upon a young general who has carried through a great
campaign and is covered with signs of honour."

A little while after he roused himself from a slumber to say, "You will
be surprised to find yourself named in my will; please don't have any
scruples about accepting the inheritance. I want my niece, of course,
to reign in my stead; but if you outlive her, all is to go to you. I
want you to live on in this place, to stand by her in her loneliness,
as a brother by a sister. I want you to help and work for my dear
people here, to be tender and careful for them. There are many things
that a man can do which a woman cannot; and your difficulty will be to
find a hem for your life. Remember that there is no one who is injured
by this--my niece is my only living relation; so accept this as your
post in life; it will not be a hard one. It is strange," he added,
"that one should cling to such trifles; but I should like you to take
my name, if you will; and you must find some one to succeed you; I wish
it could have been your own boy, whom I have learnt to love."

Miss ---- came in shortly after, and Mr. ---- said to her, "Yes, I have
told him, and he consents. You do consent, do you not?" I said, "Yes,
dear friend, of course I consent; and consent gratefully, for you have
given me a work in the world." And then I took Miss ----'s hand across
the bed and kissed it; the old man laid his hands upon our heads very
tenderly and said, "Brother and sister to the end."

I thought he was tired then, and made as if to leave him, but he said,
"Do not go, my son." He lay smiling to himself, as if well pleased.
Then a sudden change came over his face, and I saw that he was going;
we knelt beside him, and his last words were words of blessing.

October 12, 1891.

This book has been my companion through some very strange, sad,
terrible, and joyful hours; my faithful companion, my silent friend, my
true confessor. I have felt the need of utterance, the imperative
instinct--the most p