the beloved invalid at Ion was slowly sinking to the grave. Nay, rather, as she would have it, journeying rapidly towards her heavenly home, "the land of the leal," the city which hath foundations, whose builder and Maker is God.
She suffered, but with a patience that never failed, a cheerfulness and joyful looking to the end, that made her sick-room a sort of little heaven below.
Her children were with her almost constantly through the day; but Mr. Travilla, watchful as ever over his idolized young wife, would not allow her to lose a night's rest, insisting on her retiring at the usual hour. Nor would he allow her ever to assist in lifting his mother, or any of the heavy nursing; she might smooth her pillows, give her medicines, order dainties prepared to tempt the failing appetite, and oversee the negro women, who were capable nurses, and one of whom was always at hand night and day, ready to do whatever was required.
Elsie dearly loved her mother-in-law, and felt it both a duty and delight to do all in her power for her comfort and consolation; but when she heard that her own beloved father was ill, she could not stay away from him, but made a daily visit to the Oaks and to his bedside. She was uniformly cheerful in his presence, but wept in secret because she was denied the privilege of nursing him in his illness.
Then her sorrow and anxiety for Rose were great, and all the more because, Mrs. Travilla being then at the worst, she could very seldom leave her for even the shortest call at the Oaks.
In the afternoon of a sweet bright Sabbath in March, a little group gathered in Mrs. Travilla's room. Her pastor was there: a man of large heart full of tender sympathy for the sick, the suffering, the bereaved, the poor, the distressed in mind, body, or estate; a man mighty in the Scriptures; with its warnings, its counsels, its assurances, its sweet and precious promises ever ready on his tongue; one who by much study of the Bible, accompanied by fervent prayer for the wisdom promised to him that asks it, had learned to wield wisely and with success "the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God." Like Noah he was a preacher of righteousness, and like Paul could say, "I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears."
He had brought with him one of his elders, a man of like spirit, gentle, kind, tender, ever ready to obey the command to "weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that do rejoice," a man silver-haired and growing feeble with age, yet so meek and lowly in heart, so earnest and childlike in his approaches to our Father, that he seemed on the very verge of heaven.
"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God." Often had these two been in that sick-room, comforting the aged saint as she neared "the valley of the shadow of death."
To-day they had come again on the same Christlike errand, and for the last time; for all could see that she stood on Jordan's very brink, its cold waters already creeping up about her feet.
Mr. Dinsmore, Mr. Travilla, and Elsie were present; also, a little withdrawn from the others, Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, and a few of the old house servants who were Christians. "The rich and the poor meet together; the Lord is the Maker of them all."
It was a sweetly solemn service, refreshing to the soul of each one there; most of all, perhaps, to that of her who would so soon be casting her crown at the Master's feet. "I am almost home," she said with brightening countenance, her low, sweet voice breaking the solemn stillness of the room; "I am entering the valley, but without fear, for Jesus is with me. I hear Him saying to me, 'Fear not; I have redeemed thee; thou art mine.'"
"He is all your hope and trust, dear friend, is He not?" asked her pastor.
"All, all; His blood and righteousness are all my hope. All my righteousnesses are as filthy rags; all my best services have need to be forgiven. I am vile; but His blood cleanseth from all sin; and He has washed me in it and made me mete for the inheritance of the saints in light."
"Dear sister," said the old elder, taking her hand in a last farewell, "good-bye for a short season; 'twill not be long till we meet before the throne. Do not fear to cross the river, for He will be with you, and will not let you sink."
"No; the everlasting arms are underneath and around me, and He will never leave nor forsake."
"'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints,'" said the pastor, taking the feeble hand in his turn. "Fear not; you shall be more than conqueror through Him that loved us."
"Yes, the battle is fought, the victory is won; and I hear Him saying to me, 'Come up hither.' Oh! I shall be there very soon—a sinner saved by grace."
The pastor and elder withdrew, Mr. Travilla going with them to the door. Elsie brought a cordial and held it to her mother's lips, Mr. Dinsmore gently raising her head. "Thank you both," she said, with the courtesy for which she had ever been distinguished. Then, as Mr. Dinsmore settled her more comfortably on her pillows, and Elsie set aside the empty cup, "Horace, my friend, farewell till we meet in a better land. Elsie, darling," laying her pale thin hand on the bowed head, "you have been a dear, dear daughter to me, such a comfort, such a blessing! May the Lord reward you."
Elsie had much ado to control her feelings. Her father passed his arm about her waist and made her rest her head upon his shoulder.
"Mother, how are you now?" asked Mr. Travilla, coming in and taking his place on his wife's other side, close by the bed of the dying one.
"All is peace, peace, the sweetest peace, I have nothing to do but to die, I am in the river, but the Lord upholdeth me with His hand, and I have almost reached the farther shore."
She then asked for the babe, kissed and blessed it, and bade her son good-bye.
"Sing to me, children, the twenty-third psalm."
Controlling their emotion by a strong effort, that they might minister to her comfort, they sang; the three voices blending in sweet harmony.
"Thank you," she said again, as the last strain died away. "Hark! I hear sweeter, richer melody, the angels have come for me, Jesus is here. Lord Jesus receive my spirit."
There was an enraptured upward glance, an ecstatic smile, then the eyes closed and all was still; without a struggle or a groan the spirit had dropped its tenement of clay and sped away on its upward flight.
It was like a translation; a deep hush filled the room, while for a moment they seemed almost to see the "glory that dwelleth in Immanuel's land." They scarcely wept, their joy for her, the ransomed of the Lord, almost swallowing up their grief for themselves.
But soon Elsie began to tremble violently, shudder after shudder shaking her whole frame, and in sudden alarm her husband and father led her from the room.
"Oh. Elsie, my darling, my precious wife!" cried Travilla, in a tone of agony, as they laid her upon a sofa in her boudoir, "are you ill? are you in pain?"
"Give way, daughter, and let the tears come," said Mr. Dinsmore, tenderly bending over her and gently smoothing her hair; "it will do you good, bring relief to the overstrained nerves and full heart."
Even as he spoke the barriers which for so many hours had been steadily, firmly resisting the grief and anguish swelling in her breast, suddenly gave way, and tears poured out like a flood.
Her husband knelt by her side and drew her head to a resting-place on his breast, while her father, with one of her hands in his, softly repeated text after text speaking of the bliss of the blessed dead.
She grew calmer. "Don't be alarmed about me, dear Edward, dear papa," she said in her low sweet
