theer dunnot, an' we never see
each other agen, I want thee to mak' me a promise that if tha sees th'
little chap first tha'lt moind him o' me, and watch out wi' him nigh th'
gate, and I'll promise thee that if I see him first, I'll moind him o'
thee an' watch out true an' constant.'

"I promised her, Mester, as yo' can guess, an' we kneeled down an'
kissed th' grass, an' she took a bit o' th' sod to put i' her bosom. An'
then we stood up an' looked at each other, an' at last she put her dear
face on my breast an' kissed me, as she had done every neet sin' we were
mon an' wife.

"'Good-bye, dear lad,' she whispers--her voice aw broken. 'Doant come
back to th' house till I'm gone. Good-bye, dear, dear, lad, an' God
bless thee.' An' she slipped out o' my arms an' wur gone in a moment
awmost before I could cry out.

"Theer isna much more to tell, Mester--th' eend's comin' now, an' happen
it'll shorten off th' story, so 'at it seems suddent to thee. But it
were-na suddent to me. I lived alone here, an' worked, an' moinded my
own business, an' answered no questions fur nigh about a year, hearin'
nowt, an' seein' nowt, an' hopin' nowt, till one toime when th' daisies
were blowin' on th' little grave here, theer come to me a letter fro'
Manchester fro' one o' th' medical chaps i' th' hospital. It wur a short
letter wi' prent on it, an' the moment I seed it I knowed summat wur up,
an' I opened it tremblin'. Mester, theer wur a woman lyin' i' one o' th'
wards dyin' o' some long-named heart-disease, an' she'd prayed 'em to
send fur me, an' one o' th' young softhearted ones had writ me a line to
let me know.

"I started aw'most afore I'd finished readin' th' letter, an' when I
getten to th' place I fun just what I knowed I should. I fun her--my
wife--th' blessed lass, an' 'f I'd been an hour later I would-na ha'
seen her alive, fur she were nigh past knowin' me then.

"But I knelt down by th' bedside an' I plead wi' her as she lay theer,
until I browt her back to th world again fur one moment. Her eyes flew
wide open aw at onct, an' she seed me an' smiled, aw her dear face
quiverin' i' death.

"'Dear lad,' she whispered, 'th' path was na so long after aw. Th' Lord
knew--He trod it hissen' onct, yo' know. I knowed tha'd come--I prayed
so. I've reached th' very eend now, Tim, an' I shall see th' little lad
first. But I wunnot forget my promise--no. I'll look out--fur thee--fur
thee--at th' gate.'

"An' her eyes shut slow an