ad been able to tell himself
that he had no ground for complaint,--great ground rather for
rejoicing and gratitude. Had not the world and all in it been good to
him; had he not children who loved him, who had done him honour, who
had been to him always a crown of glory, never a mark for reproach;
had not his lines fallen to him in very pleasant places; was it not
his happy fate to go and leave it all amidst the good words and kind
loving cares of devoted friends? Whose latter days had ever been more
blessed than his? And for the future--? It was as he thought of this
that that smile came across his face,--as though it were already the
face of an angel. And then he muttered to himself a word or two.
"Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace. Lord, now
lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace."

When Mrs. Grantly returned she found him in jocund spirits. And yet
she perceived that he was so weak that when he left his chair he
could barely get across the room without assistance. Mrs. Baxter,
indeed, had not sent to her too soon, and it was well that the
prohibition had come in time to prevent some terrible accident.
"Papa," she said, "I think you had better go with me to Plumstead.
The carriage is here, and I can take you home so comfortably." But he
would not allow himself to be taken on this occasion to Plumstead. He
smiled and thanked her, and put his hand into hers, and repeated his
promise that he would not leave the house on any occasion without
assistance, and declared himself specially thankful to her for
coming to him on that special morning;--but he would not be taken to
Plumstead. "When summer comes," he said, "then, if you will have me
for a few days!"

He meant no deceit, and yet he had told himself within the last hour
that he should never see another summer. He could not tell even his
daughter that after such a life as this, after more than fifty years
spent in the ministrations of his darling cathedral, it specially
behoved him to die,--as he had lived,--at Barchester. He could not
say this to his eldest daughter; but had his Eleanor been at home, he
could have said it to her. He thought he might yet live to see his
Eleanor once again. If this could be given to him he would ask for
nothing more.

On the afternoon of the next day, Mrs. Baxter wrote another letter,
in which she told Mrs. Grantly that her father had declared, at his
usual hour of rising that morning, that as he was not going to t