came from them in reply.

'If we were knit together then,' pursued the younger brother, 'what
will be the bond between us now! Our love and fellowship began in
childhood, when life was all before us, and will be resumed when we
have proved it, and are but children at the last. As many restless
spirits, who have hunted fortune, fame, or pleasure through the world,
retire in their decline to where they first drew breath, vainly seeking
to be children once again before they die, so we, less fortunate than
they in early life, but happier in its closing scenes, will set up our
rest again among our boyish haunts, and going home with no hope
realised, that had its growth in manhood--carrying back nothing that
we brought away, but our old yearnings to each other--saving no
fragment from the wreck of life, but that which first endeared it--may
be, indeed, but children as at first. And even,' he added in an
altered voice, 'even if what I dread to name has come to pass--even if
that be so, or is to be (which Heaven forbid and spare us!)--still,
dear brother, we are not apart, and have that comfort in our great
affliction.'

By little and little, the old man had drawn back towards the inner
chamber, while these words were spoken. He pointed there, as he
replied, with trembling lips.

'You plot among you to wean my heart from her. You never will do
that--never while I have life. I have no relative or friend but her--I
never had--I never will have. She is all in all to me. It is too late
to part us now.'

Waving them off with his hand, and calling softly to her as he went, he
stole into the room. They who were left behind, drew close together,
and after a few whispered words--not unbroken by emotion, or easily
uttered--followed him. They moved so gently, that their footsteps made
no noise; but there were sobs from among the group, and sounds of grief
and mourning.

For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest. The
solemn stillness was no marvel now.

She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of
pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand
of God, and waiting for the breath of life; not one who had lived and
suffered death.

Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green
leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favour. 'When I die,
put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above
it always.'