“My strength is failing,” she said, sadly; “every moment is precious; if I die without that promise which they could not refuse to a dying mother’s prayer, God knows what will become of them!”

Mrs. Clark urged the necessity of quiet, but the sufferer paid no heed to the caution.  She talked on, wildly, and sometimes incoherently, about the hopes she built upon the reconciliation her death-bed would effect,—­showing, in these few moments of unnatural loquacity, how deeply she had felt the animosity between her sons, and how great had been the effort to conquer it.  This excitement could not continue long; her voice soon grew weaker, and at last she ceased speaking, appearing to sink into a stupor of exhaustion.

An instant after, the door opened and John ran eagerly to the couch, closely followed by James.  Already the poor widow’s eyes were closed; the livid hue that is so fatally significant overspread her face; her breath came in quick gasps.

“Mother! mother!” cried John, flinging himself on his knees beside her, and seizing the thin, hard hand.

At that sound, she opened her eyes, but it was too late; she no longer had the power of utterance.  She glanced from one brother to the other with a piteous, entreating look; her mouth moved convulsively; in the effort to speak, she sat upright for an instant, ghastly and rigid, and then fell heavily back.

All was over; her life of labor was changed for eternal rest; and the two men, whom only her power had restrained, stood with the last barrier between them removed, avowed and deadly enemies.

Yet, for all that, they were sincere mourners for the sole parent they had ever known, though it seemed, that, jealous even in their grief, neither cared to have the other see how much he suffered; for, after the first few moments, when the heart refuses to be satisfied of the certainty which it knows only too well, they turned away, and each sought his own room.  Afterwards, when all was prepared and the room decently arranged, they returned, and alternately through the long night kept their vigil beside the corpse.  It is strange, that, in those quiet hours of communion with the loved dead, no thought of relenting towards each other ever suggested itself.

The snow that had been hanging all day in the dark clouds above them towards evening began to fall.  Stilly and continually the tiny flakes came down, hiding all the ruggedness of earth under a spotless mantle, even as the white shroud covered the toil-worn frame of the released sufferer.

In the morning the news spread rapidly, and neighbors came to the afflicted house.  But the brothers seemed to resent their offers of assistance as an intrusion, refusing to allow any other watchers, themselves continuing night and day to watch beside the corpse; and that awful vigil, instead of softening their hearts, seemed to harden them into a more deadly hatred.