Silence for a moment, and then Ester repeated, in tones that were full of sweetness, that one little verse, which had become the embodiment to her of all that was tender, and soothing and wonderful:  “What time I am afraid I will trust in thee.”  Was this man, moving toward the very verge of the river, afraid?  Ester did not know, was not to know whether those gracious invitations from the Redeemer of the world had fallen once more on unheeding ears, or not; for with a little sigh, born partly of relief, and partly of sorrow, that the opportunity was gone, she turned to meet Dr. Van Anden, and was sent for a few moments out into the light and glory of the departing day, to catch a bit of its freshness.

It was as the last midnight stroke of that long, long day was being given, that they were gathered about the dying bed.  Sadie was there, solemn and awe-stricken.  Mrs. Ried had arisen from her couch of suffering, and nerved herself to be a support to the poor young wife.  Dr. Douglass, at the side of the sick man, kept anxious watch over the fluttering pulse.  Ester, on the other side, looked on in helpless pity, and other friends of the Hollands were grouped about the room.  So they watched and waited for the swift down-coming of the angel of death The death damp had gathered on his brow, the pulse seemed but a faint tremble now and then, and those whose eyes were used to death thought that his lips would never frame mortal sound again, when suddenly the eyelids raised, and Mr. Holland, fixing a steady gaze upon the eyes bent on him from the foot of the bed, whither Ester had slipped to make more room for her mother and Mrs. Holland, said, in a clear, distinct tone, one unmistakable word—­“Pray!”

Will Ester ever forget the start of terror which thrilled her frame as she felt that look and heard that word?  She cast a quick, frightened glance around her of inquiry and appeal; but her mother and herself were the only ones present whom she had reason to think ever prayed.  Could she, would she, that gentle, timid, shrinking mother?  But Mrs. Ried was supporting the now almost fainting form of Mrs. Holland, and giving anxious attention to her.  “He says pray!” Sadie murmured, in low, frightened tones.  “Oh, where is Dr. Van Anden?”

Ester knew he had been called in great haste to the house across the way, and ere he could return, this waiting spirit might be gone—­gone without a word of prayer.  Would Ester want to die so, with no voice to cry for her to that listening Savior?  But then no human being had ever heard her pray.  Could she?—­must she?  Oh, for Dr. Van Anden—­a Christian doctor!  Oh, if that infidel stood anywhere but there, with his steady hand clasping the fluttering pulse, with his cool, calm eyes bent curiously on her—­but Mr. Holland was dying; perhaps the everlasting arms were not underneath him—­and at this fearful thought, Ester dropped upon her knees, giving utterance to her deepest need in the first uttered words, “Oh,