CHAPTER XXXI

'SUCH A PEACEFUL DEATH'

The loved and lost!' Why do we call them lost?
Because we miss them from our onward road?
God's unseen angel o'er our pathway crossed,
Looked on us all, and loving them the most,
Straightway relieved them from life's weary load.

ANON.

THE time seemed long to Sheila before the rush of cold air and the sound of footsteps announced the doctor's arrival. At the sight of the kind familiar face Martha grew more calm and collected. She moved aside of her own accord, and let him take her place.

I know you will do what you can for him,' she said in a voice that made Ned's heart ache. As he put his arm round her, she looked up in his face with a flickering smile.

'You were so good to bring him. It has been such a long faint, and I was so frightened. But Dr. Moorhouse is so clever. I must do what I can to help him.' But Ned, who had just seen the doctor lay down the limp hand, held her fast.

'You can do nothing, my dearest.' And then Dr. Moorhouse, who had given a few hasty directions to Jane, came up to them.

My dear child,' he said kindly, God has taken

your poor father in his sleep.

It is heart failure, but

he has not suffered. Now, we are going to carry him to his room, but I want you to stay down here with Miss Lassiter.' And then, as they bore the lifeless remains from the room, Martha's dormant faculties slowly awoke.

'He is dead he died in his sleep-Dr. Moorhouse said so.' She spoke like a child who had just mastered a difficult lesson.

'Such a peaceful death, dear,' whispered Sheila. 'No pain, no consciousness, no fear, he just slept away like a worn-out child.' For she as well as Ned had been awed by the solemn sweetness of the dead man's smile.

'Yes, I know, and she came for him. Do you hear me, Bee?' addressing her weeping sister. 'Darling mother was with the angel. Do you know what she said?"Come, Reginald," and then they took him.'

'Oh, Sheila, has the shock turned her brain?' and Betty looked scared to death. 'I never, never heard her talk like this before.'

'No, dear, she is only dazed. You must remember what nights she has had lately-only snatches of sleep; and it was all so sudden, you see.'

But though Sheila said this, she felt vaguely uncomfortable. But Martha only smiled a little strangely. She was too weary to reason with them, and indeed, even when she grew calmer and more capable of reflection, she could never make up her mind whether it had been a dream or a waking vision.

'Voices are seldom distinct in dreams,' she said long afterwards to Ned. 'I shall always feel that my mother was near us that night.'

Ned did not try to combat this idea.

He was very

gentle with her, and kept his thoughts to himself. 'Perhaps it may have been so, dearest,' was all he said to her.

After all, "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy," he remarked later on to Luke Brett, when they were talking on this subject. I have never been disposed to believe in such things myself. Martha was overwrought; in my opinion, it was only a singularly vivid dream.'

'One cannot tell,' returned Luke thoughtfully. 'The spiritual world may be nearer than we imagine ; only our senses are so gross and clogged with earthliness. "Their old men shall dream dreams, and their young men shall see visions." And perhaps to the pure in heart, the children of the kingdom, heavenly presences may become visible. I have myself dreamed

But here, to Ned's regret, Luke paused, and the firm lips closed. No, such things were too sacredhe would not speak of them.

A little later Sheila slipped away to intercept Dr. Moorhouse. He promised to send Martha a composingdraught, and begged that she should go to her room at once. Sheila found that 'Jane had thoughtfully lighted fires in both the girls' rooms. She discovered afterwards that this was always their Christmas treat. The little rooms looked very snug and warm. Sheila found Ned in the sitting-room when she returned. He was kneeling beside Martha's chair, so that she could rest her heavy head against his shoulder. Betty was on the rug at her sister's feet. No one was speaking.

Martha consented to do as Dr. Moorhouse wished; but she stipulated that she should see her father first.

'Dear Martha, not to-night,' pleaded Ned. But

she persisted, and they were obliged to let her have her way.

'I must say good-night to him,' she whispered; ‘I always do, you know.' And then she and Sheila went upstairs. Betty followed them, but she shrank from entering the chamber of death.

Martha was very quiet, and did not give way. 'I should have liked to say my prayers here,' she said, 'only it is so cold, and I am too tired.' Then she stooped and kissed the chill forehead-it felt like marble. 'Good-night, my darling,' she whispered. And as Sheila helped her to undress, she said in a dreamy tone-'Oh, how much he and mother will have to say to each other!' And it was evident that her thoughts were brooding with solemn joy on that reunion in paradise.

Martha would have refused the composing-draught, but Sheila persuaded her to take it.

'I do not need it; I shall sleep soundly without it.' And indeed she was so worn out that she was asleep before Sheila left the room.

Sheila stayed with Betty a little, and then left her in Jane's charge and went downstairs. To her surprise Ned was still waiting for her.

'I sent Ivor home an hour ago,' he observed. 'It is very late--half-past eleven—and you look so tired, She; but one can hardly wonder at that. I think I was half asleep myself.'

'I am sorry I have been so long, but Betty wanted me to stay with her. She was too nervous to be left,

but Jane means to

resting so sweetly.'

sleep in her room.

Martha is

And then, as Ned

And then, as Ned opened the

door, Sheila saw it was snowing, and that the ground

was already white.

The

Eppie had, as usual, cared for their comfort. fire burnt brightly in Ned's study, the coffee-pot was on the fender, and a tray of food on the little round table; for they had left their dinner half-eaten.

Ned put Sheila in the easy-chair and waited on her; then he poured out some coffee for himself.

'Our first Christmas at The Moorings has been a strange one, She,' he said, with a sigh.

'Yes, but we have had our Christmas feast together,' she returned in a low voice. How far away it seemed, that dark morning walk and the lighted church. How little they had guessed that with the Angels of the Nativity should be the dark-robed Angel of Death! In one home the children shouting with joy at the sight of the festive tree; in the other a new-born soul, set free from its worn-out body, was carried, sleeping, through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Neither the brother nor the sister was in the mood for conversation. They both felt the loss of their friend acutely; the gentle old man had endeared himself to each of them. And Ned was disposed to reproach himself for his neglect.

'If I had not been so afraid of giving myself pain, I should have run up to see him all these months,' he said afterwards to Sheila. But she would not allow him to blame himself.

'It would not have been wise to break off your work. I do not think you were selfish, Ned; Martha would be quite shocked at such an idea entering your head.' And this comforted him a little.

During the next few days Sheila almost lived at the Old Cottage, and Ned was a constant visitor. Martha seemed to depend wholly on thein. For some days she was too ill to take any active part. The