“My darling,” he whispered, drawing her to him, “my poor darling; so they have told you?  I have tried to spare you the bitter truth as long as I could; bitter to you, love, and to me for your sake; yet the will of God be done; He knows and will do what is best for us both.”

Evelyn was making a determined effort at self-control for his dear sake, that she might not disturb him with the knowledge that her very heart was breaking.

“Papa,” she said, with a vain endeavor to steady her tones, “dear, dearest papa, you will surely get well; for I will pray day and night to God to cure you; and have you not taught me that He is the hearer and answerer of prayer, that He loves us, and that He is able to do everything?”

“Yes, dear daughter; and it is all true, but His thoughts are not as our thoughts; He may see best to take me now to the heavenly home toward which you too, I hope, are traveling; best for you as well as for me.”

“O papa, how can it be best for me, when you are such a help to me in going that road; the only help I have?”

“He is able to raise up other and better helpers for you, dearest, and He Himself will be the best of all.  Perhaps it is to draw you nearer to Himself that He is taking away the earthly father upon whom you have been accustomed to lean.”

Mr. Leland’s voice faltered with the last words; the exertion of talking so much had exhausted his feeble frame, and closing his eyes, he lay lifting up silent petitions for his child.

Evelyn thought he slept, and lest she should disturb him, forcibly repressed her inclination to relieve her over-burdened heart by sobs and sighs.

She remained close at his side, gently fanning him, for the day was oppressively hot.

But presently he opened his eyes, and fixed them upon her face with a long look of tenderest love and sympathy—­a look that impressed itself indelibly upon her memory and was often, in after years, dwelt upon with feelings of strangely mingled joy and grief.

“My darling,” he murmured at length, so low that her quick ear scarce caught the words, “my precious child, I leave you to the care of Him who is a Father of the fatherless.  I have been pleading with Him for you; pleading His promise to those who trust in Him—­’I will be a God to thee and to thy seed after thee.’  It is an everlasting covenant, and shall never fail.  Seek Him, my darling, seek Him with all your heart, and He will be your God forever and ever:  your Guide even unto death.”

“I will, papa, I will,” she whispered, pressing her quivering lips to his cheek.

The end did not come that day; for another week the loved sufferer lingered in pain and weakness, borne with Christian fortitude and resignation.

For the most part his mind was clear and calm, the joy of the Lord his strength and stay; yet were there moments when doubts and fears assailed him.

“What is it, dear brother?” Elsie asked one day, seeing a troubled look upon his face.