place at the door that he might be heard in both apartments. Frank gently moved one of the chairs toward her, motioned her to sit in it, and stood by my side.
The solemn service commenced with an invocation, after which the covenant and creed of the church were read, and heartily responded to by the invalid, if I may judge from his rapt attention; then a short prayer consecrating the elements, which were distributed. The Doctor took the cup from Deacon Jackson, and gently raising the sick man, held it to his lips. There was truly a sublime expression on his countenance. With uplifted hands, he whispered, "Dear —dear– Jesus – died – for – me – glory —immortal– GLORY!!"
In a moment the expression changed, and Frank, who was closely watching him, stepped to Mr. Munroe, and told him he feared Mr. Lewis would faint. The clergyman immediately pronounced the benediction, and requested the friends quietly to withdraw.
I stepped to the backside of the room, while the Doctor opened the other windows for a moment to change the air, and with the help of strong restoratives, the patient soon revived, and was able to swallow a little of the wine and water the Doctor had prepared. I went toward the bed to bid him farewell, doubting whether I should ever see him alive again. He looked at me affectionately and gratefully, and pointed up, as if he would ask me to meet him in heaven. I pressed his cold hand to my lips and silently left the room.
Mrs. Lewis followed us to the door, where she took Frank's hands in both of hers, and burst into tears. The most ardent desire of her soul for her poor dying husband had been realized; her prayers for years, answered; and though he was to be taken from her, she trusted she should meet him in a better world, to part no more.
I was deeply solemnized and impressed by this scene. It is the first time my dear husband and I have together tasted the memorials of our Saviour's love. I think I shall not soon forget it.
Mr. Lewis breathed his last this morning soon after eight o'clock. The Doctor reached there a few moments after, and made all the arrangements for the funeral, which is to be on Wednesday afternoon in the chapel near the church.
CHAPTER VIII
"Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies the life,
Making a truth and beauty of its own." Wordsworth.
Emily is so much better, we think she can go down stairs to-morrow. As I have had no suitable opportunity to talk with Frank, I have avoided, when with her, the subject of our late interview.
I went with my husband this afternoon to visit the most charming old lady I have ever seen. I wish you could see her; she is over eighty, but just as fair as a young girl, and from her being of full habit, she has scarcely a wrinkle on her face. She has the most gentle, loving blue eyes, and her gray hair is nicely combed down under a plain muslin cap. Many a young girl might be envious of the beautiful peach bloom of her cheeks. But these are not her greatest charms. It is her manner, her heart overflowing with love to all. I believe everybody loves her, because she loves everybody; and she doesn't hesitate to show it. She is the mother of Mrs. Squire Wilson, to whom the Doctor was called for a sprained ancle. I could soon understand why he was so pleased to take me there with him.
When she heard the carriage, Mrs. Low, or "Aunt Susy," as every one calls her, came to the door, and shading her eyes from the sun with her hand, stood looking until the Doctor alighted.
"Well now, Dr. Frank, that's you," (she had known him from a baby,) "I reckoned you'd be here before long."
Frank led the horse to the steps and lifted me out.
"Who's that, now, you've got with you?" she asked, looking at me.
"Somebody else for you to love," said he laughing, for she had taken possession of his hands.
She started, and holding me by the shoulders in a most loving way, said, "La, now, Doctor! this 'ere little thing don't b'long to you, does she? Is she your wife, I heard tell about?" at the same time she gave me a most hearty squeeze.
Frank laughed as he bowed his assent.
"I reckoned," she added, "you'd pick'd out one a proper sight older'n this little gal, you was allus so stiff."
As she continued to press me in her arms, and then push me off to look again, my husband began to look as if he was afraid he never should get me away again. All this time with a true delicacy, she had not kissed me, as if she were not sure I would like to be kissed by so old a person. But I soon relieved her on this point, and then we all walked into the sitting-room where her daughter, who was evidently used to such scenes, was patiently awaiting us. After being introduced to Mrs. Wilson, whom I recognized, (as I had met her at mother's levee,) the Doctor proceeded to examine her ancle. Aunt Susy and I took seats on the little sofa which was covered with bright chintz. She sat very close to me, and with a press of my hand which she held, she motioned with her head toward the Doctor, saying in what she meant for a whisper, "he's a real nice man to live with, I'll be bound." I only laughed and nodded.
"Them stiddy ones, sometimes turns out the greatest rogues," she continued in a comforting tone, "now I calculated, he'd court a prim, proper kind of a woman, a reglar old maid, that'ud be company for his mother; but there's no telling what people will do, times changes so, since I was a gal."
I was well convinced by the spasmodic motion about Dr. Frank's mouth, that he was not so absorbed in the examination of Mrs. Wilson's foot that he did not hear every word of this confidential talk, I therefore thought, I would try to change the subject of conversation. As I could think of nothing else, I told her what a dear little girl I had found. She was almost breathless with interest, and when I stopped she said: —
"Now I never heard the cap to that! Now do tell if you're gone to keep her for your own, or if you're gone to kind o'make a servant of her?"
"Oh, no indeed!" I answered quickly, "Frank loves her as well, or almost as well as I do, and we have adopted her for our own."
"And she's nothin to you, by blood I mean?"
"Oh, no, we don't know whose child she is."
"Well, that is the beater!" she exclaimed, and for the child's sake I suppose, gave me another squeeze and kiss.
"Betsey," said she to her daughter, "Did you ever hear tell what Dr. Frank's been and done?"
"No, mother."
"Well, he'd no more'n got his little young wife safely housed, than he was so impatient for a darter, that he went and picked up one out of the streets, and gin to her to take care on."
The Doctor and I laughed heartily at this curious exposition of our domestic affairs, while she evidently thought she had stated the case exactly. She ended with, "There now, I never was so beat. To think of Dr. Frank starting off on sich a rig. However, I hope good luck'll come on't, and mabby you'll soon find out who the child b'longs ter."
"Oh! no," said I, interrupting her, "that is the only thing I'm afraid of, I couldn't give her up."
"Look there, now!" said Aunt Susy, turning in surprise to the Doctor, "an't it mazin how these young critters takes to children."
We both rose to go; but she just took my hands, and set me down again. "Sit right there, till I bring you some luncheon."
I told her I preferred not taking any; but she would hear no excuse. She went out into the kitchen, and very soon brought a waiter, covered with a clean napkin, holding two tumblers of rich milk,
