e Lord
rewards you as he has done me, there'll come a time when this child will
pay you back in love and care all you ever do for her.--Gerty?"

"She's not here," said Emily; "I heard her run into her own room."

"Poor birdie!" said True, "she doesn't like to hear o' my leavin' her;
I'm sad to think how some day soon she'll almost sob her heart away over
her old uncle. Never mind now! I was goin' to bid her be a good child to
you; but I think she will, without biddin'; and I can say my say to her
another time. Good-bye, my dear young lady;"--for Emily had risen to go,
and George, the man-servant, was waiting at the door for her--"if I
never see you again, remember that you made an old man so happy that
he's nothing in this world left to wish for; and that you carry with you
a dyin' man's best blessin', and his prayer that God may grant such
perfect peace to your last days as now He does to mine."

That evening, when True had already retired to rest, and Gerty had
finished reading aloud in her little Bible, as she always did at
bed-time, True called her to him, and asked her, as he had often done of
late, to repeat his favourite prayer for the sick. She knelt at his
bedside, and with a solemn and touching earnestness fulfilled his
request.

"Now, darlin', the prayer for the dyin';--isn't there such a one in your
little book?"

Gerty trembled. There _was_ such a prayer, a beautiful one; and the
thoughtful child, to whom the idea of death was familiar, knew it by
heart--but could she repeat the words? Could she command her voice? Her
whole frame shook with agitation; but Uncle True wished to hear it, it
would be a comfort to him, and she would try. Concentrating all her
energy and self-command, she began; and, gaining strength as she
proceeded, went on to the end. Once or twice her voice faltered, but
with new effort she succeeded, in spite of the great bunches in her
throat; and her voice sounded so clear and calm, that Uncle True's
devotional spirit was not once disturbed by the thought of the girl's
sufferings; for, fortunately, he could not hear how her heart beat and
throbbed, and threatened to burst.

She did not rise at the conclusion of the prayer--she could not--but
remained kneeling, her head buried in the bedclothes. For a few moments
there was a solemn stillness in the room; then the old man laid his hand
upon her head.

She looked up.

"You love Miss Emily, don't you, birdie?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Y