His voice grew fainter.  “Just one more step and I am there.”  The loved ones hovered nearer.  A soft white hand was laid upon his brow.  It was the hand of Hattie.  Subdued sobs were heard about the room.  “Don’t weep, dear children,” he faintly murmured:  “I am just passing into—­I see the darling’s hands—­no pale cheeks—­how sweet—­about my neck—­this Rose—­Rose’s Savior Papa’s Savior too.  Let’s go—.”  He was dead—­and blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.

The end.