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composed now he would be quite easy if you would try to be a little more resigned."
Do, Jenny, do, dear woman-there-there -"as the poor thing tried to stop her cries and tears, and covering her head with her hands sank sobbing upon the bed," there, there, good, dear Jenny! And now, children, are you all here?"
"Yes, father," said all with one voice; "we're all here."
"And my own darling little Tim, my little man, he's here too: but where's the other child?" seeming suddenly to recollect him.
Oh, Jack was forced to carry him into the garden, he cried so badly."
"Did you leave him alone, there?" asked the father.
"Yes, father. I wanted to get back to you."
"Fetch him again, he's but a little child; but maybe he'll remember it some time, that, when his little heart was bursting for his poor dear mammy, he was left out. Go and fetch him, Jack."
The child seemed to have some faint sense of what his foster-father feared for him; for when his friend Jack came to seek him, he had done crying, but looked sulky and offended-as some people might have called it-melancholy; and with feelings deeply wounded, as a kinder observer might have said.
He pushed Jack's hand aside, and refusing to come, turned his little back upon his friend, and walked sturdily away.
Oh, Gideon! father sent for you; don't be a bad boy to-day; don't, Gideon, and mammy's crying so, too. Don't be a bad boy, don't vex mammy.'
The child turned round at this, eyed Jack for a moment doubtfully, then he lifted up his little frock and tried to dry his tears with it, in which Jack, very good-naturedly stooping down, helped him, saying,
"Don't roar any more, Gideon, but come in and stand with the rest. Father's got something to say to us before he dies."
"Have you brought in the strange child?" said
the gardener, whose voice was now fast becoming sepulchral and hollow, "bring him up to me give me his little hand-have I got it?"
The soft, warm fingers were placed in his cold, damp hand. The child cried no more; he stood there, and again fixed his eyes in silence upon his foster-father's face.
"Thou must be a good man, Gideon, and love God, and strive hard to go to Him. Look at me, I am going to God. He has been very good to me, and now He lets me die happy. I tried to serve Him from my youth. Yes, Gideon, I tried hard to do it. You'll remember, perhaps, when you are a bigger boy, what I am saying; but you understand a little now. Miss Calantha! where's Miss Calantha?"
She came forward a little.
"Give me your beautiful hand."
He took it with some difficulty, held it for a moment between his, looking up at her face with an expression of intense meaning, then placing the child's little hand in hers, he said,
"You understand me;" and he glanced at his
weeping wife. "You must take him to your
She understood that this was said because he thought poor, vehement Mrs. Penny, when left to herself, not well fitted for, the management of such a child; Calantha felt the force of his appeal, and, kneeling down, she kissed the child in silence.
He understood the gesture and appeared satisfied, for he closed his eyes for a few moments; when he opened them again, the child had withdrawn his hand in silence from Calantha, had again crept round the bed, and again placed himself close to his foster-mother, holding her clothes.
She stooped down, for his voice was low and sunken.
"In spite of that," in a whisper, glancing at his wife as she knelt there, her face pressed against the bedclothes, sobbing as if her heart would break" you take that child with you home."
She made a sign of assent with her head; but, dreading to disturb Mrs. Penny, said no
Again he closed his eyes—again he opened them—they were becoming dim, and the darkness of death was gathering round him. He rallied his spirits, and found strength to deliver his last breath in words of pious exhortation to all his children, bidding them fear God and keep His holy law, and labour hard for an honest livelihood, and to protect and to provide for that good mother who had laboured so hard for them. Then, with a few more words of consolation to his poor wife, this good man sank to rest-in the sure hope of a blessed resurrection.
Calantha and her mother sat in the evening together, looking out upon the fine view which was presented by the drawing-room window, and upon the noble sunset before them.
The red orb was sinking beneath clouds streaked with heaven's most refulgent and glowing colours,