ace; but always in a gentle voice, and without any other reference to
her illness. As often as the doctor came, he repeated his wish to visit
his dear child, but, receiving for answer "that he had better not at
present," he retired to his study with a tremulous sigh, but offering no
remonstrance.

The doctor went early to rest. He had no inclination to spend the
evening with his friend, whom he hardly cared to see until he could meet
him as the messenger of good tidings. I had resolved to hover, as I did
before, near the mournful chamber in which she lay; and there I kept a
weary watch until my eyes refused to serve me longer, and I was forced
against my will, and for the sake of others, to yield my place and crawl
to my repose. As I walked stealthily through the house, and on tiptoe,
fearful of disturbing one beloved inmate even by a breath--I passed the
incumbent's study. The door was open, and a glare of light broke from
it, and stretched across the passage. I hesitated for a moment--then
listened--but, hearing nothing, pursued my way. It was very strange. The
clock had just before struck three, and the minister, it was supposed,
had been in bed since midnight. "His lamp is burning," thought I--"he
has forgotten it." I was on the point of entering the apartment--when I
was deterred and startled by his voice. My hand was already on the door,
and I looked in. Before me, on his knees, with his back towards me, was
my revered friend--his hands clasped, and his head raised in
supplication. He was in his dress of day, and had evidently not yet
visited his pillow. I waited, and he spoke--

"Not my will," he exclaimed in a piercing tone of prayer--"not mine, but
thy kind will be done, O Lord! If it be possible, let the bitter cup
pass from me--but spare not, if thy glory must needs be vindicated.
Bring me to thy feet in meek, and humble, and believing confidence--all
is well, then, for time and for eternity. It is merciful and good to
remove the idol that stands between our love and God. Father of
mercy--enable me to bring the truth _home, home_ to this most
traitorous--this lukewarm, earthy heart of mine--a heart not worthy of
thy care and help. Let me not murmur at thy gracious will--oh, rather
bend and bow to it--and kiss the rod that punishes. I need
chastisement--for I have loved too well--too fondly. I am a rebel, and
thy all-searching eye hath found me faithless in thy service. Take her,
Father and Saviour--I will re