t, Wilford, you will be good and kind to her, and console her for my
loss. You are my executor and dearest friend. You will have regard to my
dying words, and watch over her. Be a father and a brother to her. You
will--will you not?"

"I will," answered the physician solemnly.

"Thank you, brother--thank you," replied the patient, pressing his
friend's hand warmly. "We are brothers now, Wilford--we were children,
schoolboys together. Do you remember the birds'-nesting--and the
apple-tree in the orchard? Oh, the happy scenes of my boyhood are fresher
in my memory to day than the occurrences of yesterday!"

"You were nearer heaven in your boyhood, Mildred, than you have been since,
until this hour. We are travelling daily further from the East, until we
are summoned home again. The light of heaven is about us at the beginning
and the close of life. We lose it in middle age, when it is hid by the
world's false and unsubstantial glare."

"I understand something of what you say. I never dreaded this hour. I have
relied for grace, and it has come--but, Wilford"--

"What would you say?"

"Margaret."

"What of her?"

"If you could but know what she has done for me--how, for the last two
years, she has attended me--how she has sacrificed all things for me, and
for my comfort--how she has been, against my will, my servant and my
slave--you would revere her character as I do. Night after night has she
spent at my bedside; no murmur--no dull, complaining look--all
cheerfullness! I have been peevish and impatient--no return for the harsh
word, and harsher look. So young--so beautiful--so self devoted. I have
not deserved such love--and now it is snatched from me, as it should be"--

"You are excited, Mildred," said the good doctor. "You have said too much.
Rest now--rest."

"Let me see her," answered Mildred. "I cannot part with her an instant
now."

And in a few minutes the angel of light--for such she was to the declining
man--glided to the dying bed. When she approached it his eyes were shut,
and his lips moved as if in prayer. At his side she stood, the faithful
tears pouring down her cheek, her voice suspended, lest a breath should
fall upon the sufferer and awaken him to pain. Quietly at last, as if from
sweetest sleep, his eyes unclosed, and, with a fond expression, fixed
themselves on _her_. Faster and faster streamed the unchecked tears adown
the lovely cheek, louder and louder grew the agonizing sobs that woul