, you must; and if you cannot sleep you can lie awake and
pray for him."

Here the doctor, whose agony was growing unendurable, called out:

"Go, Clara, go at once, my dear."

She went back to the bedside and pressed her lips to his forehead, and
put her arms around him and prayed:

"Oh, my dear father, may the blessed Saviour take you in his pitying
embrace and give you ease to-night. Your poor Clara will pray for you as
she never prayed for herself."

"May the Lord bless you, my sweet child," said the doctor, lifting one
hand painfully and laying it in benediction on her fair and graceful
head.

Then she arose and left the room, saying to Mrs. Rocke as she went:

"Oh, Mrs. Rocke, only last evening we were so happy--'But if we have
received good things at the hand of God, why should we not receive
evil?'"

"Yes, my child; but remember nothing is really evil that comes from His
good hand," said Mrs. Rocke, as she attended Clara to the door.

His daughter had no sooner gone out of hearing than the doctor gave way
to his irrepressible groans.

At a sign from Traverse Mrs. Rocke went and took up her position in the
adjoining room.

Then Traverse subdued the light in the sick chamber, arranged the
pillows of the couch, administered a sedative and took up his post
beside the bed, where he continued to watch and nurse the patient with
unwearied devotion.

At the dawn of day, when Clara rapped at the door, he was in no
condition to be seen by his daughter.

Clara was put off with some plausible excuse.

After breakfast his friends the physicians called and spent several
hours in his room. Clara was told that she must not come in while they
were there. And so, by one means and another, the poor girl was spared
from witnessing those dreadful agonies which, had she seen them, must
have so bitterly increased her distress.

In the afternoon, during a temporary mitigation of pain, Clara was
admitted to see her father. But in the evening, as his sufferings
augmented, she was again, upon the same excuse that had been used the
preceding evening, dismissed to her chamber.

Then passed another night of suffering, during which Traverse never left
him for an instant.

Toward morning the fever and pain abated, and he fell into a sweet
sleep. About sunrise he awoke quite free from suffering. Alas! it was
the ease that he had predicted--the ease preceding dissolution.

"It is gone forever now, Traverse, my boy; thank G