"Are
the people happy?"

"Perfectly happy--rested, you know, Marjory. They are peaceful as you
are when you are tucked up in your little bed."

"I like best to play and romp," said Marjory in a meditative voice; "but
then, you see, I am never tired."

"Dorothy is standing at the door," exclaimed Phil. "Come in, Dorothy,
and listen to mother's beautiful story."

"Do you want me?" asked Mrs. Staunton, standing up. She began to
tremble--the children looked at her anxiously.

Dorothy went straight up and took her hand. "Dr. Staunton wishes to see
you," she said. "Will you come with me?" She looked anxiously toward the
door.

Mrs. Staunton put up her hand to her head. "Good-bye, my darlings," she
said, looking at the little pair, who were gazing up at her with puzzled
faces. "Go and play in the garden, and don't forget the White Garden
about which we have been speaking." She stooped down and deliberately
kissed both children, then she held out her hand to Dorothy. "I am quite
ready," she said.

At that moment George entered the room. He put his arms round his
mother. He was a big fellow--his arms were strong. The muscles in his
neck seemed to start out, his eyes looked straight into his mother's.

"You have got _me_, mother; I am George," he said. "Come, let us go to
my father together."

Mrs. Staunton tottered upstairs. She was not in the least surprised at
seeing George, but she leaned very firmly on him. They went into the
sickroom, and when George knelt down by his father's bedside, Mrs.
Staunton knelt by him.

The doctor was going deeper and deeper into the valley from which there
is no return. Earthly sounds were growing dim to his ears--earthly
voices were losing their meaning--earthly sights were fading before his
failing eyes. The dew of death was on his forehead.

Mrs. Staunton, whose face was nearly as white, bent down lower and lower
until her lips touched his hand. The touch of her lips made him open his
eyes. He saw his wife; the look on her face seemed to bring him back to
earth again--it was like a sort of return wave, landing him high on the
shores of time.

His impulse was to say, "Come with me--let us enter into the rest of the
Lord together;" but then he saw George. George had thrown his arm round
his mother's waist.

"Let me keep her, father," said the young man. "Don't take her yet, let
me keep her."

"Yes, stay with the lad, Mary," said the doctor.

It was a final act of self-renu