he.

"Whose, then, is bright," said Gertrude, "if yours be dim! Have you not,
for years past, been a living lesson of piety? Unless it be Emily,
auntie, I know of no one who seems so fit for heaven."

"Oh, no, Gerty! I am a sinful creature, full of weakness; much as I long
to meet my Saviour, my earthly heart pines with the vain desire for one
more sight of my boy, and all my dreams of heaven are mingled with the
aching regret that the one blessing I most craved on earth has been
denied me."

"Oh, auntie!" exclaimed Gertrude, "we are all human! Until the mortal
puts on immortality, how can you cease to think of Willie, and long for
his presence in this trying hour! It cannot be a sin--that which is so
natural!"

"I do not know, Gerty; perhaps it is not; and, if it be, I trust before
I go hence, I shall be blessed with a spirit of perfect submission, to
atone for the occasional murmuring of a mother's heart? Read to me, my
dear, some holy words of comfort; you always seem to open the good book
at the passage I most need. It is sinful, indeed, to me, Gertrude, to
indulge the least repining, blessed as I am in the love and care of one
who is dear to me as a daughter!"

Gertrude took her Bible, and opening it at the Gospel of St. Mark, her
eye fell upon the account of Our Saviour's agony in the garden of
Gethsemane. She rightly believed that nothing could be more appropriate
to Mrs. Sullivan's state of mind than the touching description of the
struggle of our Lord's humanity; nothing more likely to sooth her
spirit, and reconcile her to the occasional rebellion of her own mortal
nature, then the evident contest of the human with the divine so
thrillingly narrated by the disciple; and that nothing could be more
inspiring than the example of that holy Son of God, who ever to His
thrice-repeated prayer that, if possible, the cup might pass from him,
added the pious ejaculation, "Thy will, not mine, be done." The words
were not without effect; for, when she had finished, she observed that
as Mrs. Sullivan lay still upon her couch, her lips seemed to be
repeating the Saviour's prayer. Not wishing to disturb her meditations,
Gertrude made no reference to the proposed letter to Willie, but sat
silently, and Mrs. Sullivan fell asleep. It was a gentle slumber, and
Gertrude sat and watched with pleasure the peaceful happy expression of
her features. Darkness had come on before she awoke, and so shrouded the
room that Gertrude,