uty required her to sustain
him, so far as she had the strength to do so. And so she nerved her
woman's heart, almost breaking as it was, to bear and hide her own
sorrows, while she strove to comfort and strengthen the failing spirit
of her husband.
"God is good," said she, after a brief silence, during which she was
striving for the mastery over her weakness. As she spoke, she leaned
over the sick man, and looked at him lovingly, and with the smile of
an angel on her countenance.
"Yes, God is good, Fanny. Have we not proved this, again and again?"
was returned, a feeble light coming into the speaker's pale face.
"A thousand times, dear! a thousand times!" said the wife, earnestly.
"He is infinite in his goodness, and we are his children."
"Yes, his children," was the whispered response. And over and over
again he repeated the words, "His children;" his voice falling lower
and lower each time, until at length his eyes closed, and his in-going
thought found no longer an utterance.
Twilight had come. The deepening shadows were fast obscuring all
objects in the sick-chamber, where silence reigned, profound almost as
death.
"He sleeps," whispered the wife, as she softly raised herself from
her reclining position on the bed. "And dear Fanny sleeps also," was
added, as her eyes rested upon the unconscious form of her child.
Two hours later, and the last record was made in Ruben Elder's Book of
Life.
For half an hour before the closing scene, his mind was clear, and
he then spoke calmly of what he had done for those who were to remain
behind.
"To Leonard Jasper, my old friend," said he to his wife, "I have left
the management of my affairs. He will see that every thing is done
for the best. There is not much property, yet enough to insure a small
income; and, when you follow me to the better land, sufficient for the
support and education of our child."
Peacefully, after this, he sank away, and, like a weary child falling
into slumber, slept that sleep from which the awakening is in another
world.
How Leonard Jasper received the announcement of his executorship has
been seen. The dying man had referred to him as an old friend; but, as
the reader has already concluded, there was little room in his sordid
heart for so pure a sentiment as that of friendship. He, however, lost
no time in ascertaining the amount of property left by Elder, which
consisted of two small houses in the city, and a barren tract o
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