But in the silence of the
night a greater Reaper had passed by, gathering in the harvest of a
righteous life, and leaving only tender memories for the gleaners who
had come so late.
The old man sat in the shadow of the tree his own hands planted; its
fruitful boughs shone ruddily, and its leaves still whispered the low
lullaby that hushed him to his rest.
"How fast he sleeps! Poor father! I should have come before and made
it pleasant for him."
As she spoke, Nan lifted up the head bent down upon his breast, and
kissed his pallid cheek.
"Oh, John, this is not sleep!"
"Yes, dear, the happiest he will ever know."
For a moment the shadows flickered over three white faces and the
silence deepened solemnly. Then John reverently bore the pale shape
in, and Nan dropped down beside it, saying, with a rain of grateful
tears,--
"He kissed me when I went, and said a last 'good night!'"
For an hour steps went to and fro about her, many voices whispered
near her, and skilful hands touched the beloved clay she held so fast;
but one by one the busy feet passed out, one by one the voices died
away, and human skill proved vain. Then Mrs. Lord drew the orphan to
the shelter of her arms, soothing her with the mute solace of that
motherly embrace.
* * * * *
"Nan, Nan! here's Philip! come and see!"
The happy call reechoed through the house, and Nan sprang up as if her
time for grief were past.
"I must tell them.
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