“My physician tells me it may possibly be three months ere I reach ’that bourne whence no traveller returns,’ but that in all probability I shall arrive there in less than half that time.

“And there is much I would say to you, my brother; much in which I need your kind help.  You will be coming North for the hot season; I would gladly have you, your sweet wife and baby-boy spend it here with us; and to me it seems that there are few pleasanter places than this little home-nest of ours high up on the rocky banks of the grand old Hudson River.  We have pure air and magnificent scenery, and it will be most comforting to me to have your loved companionship as I go down into the valley of the shadow of death.

“Thank God, it is only the shadow, and I shall go down into it leaning on the strong arm of my beloved.  Jesus will be with me to the very end.

“But I may be asking too much of my sweet sister Elsie; you and she have, perchance, formed other plans more congenial to your tastes and wishes.  If so, let me not interfere with them; consider my request withdrawn.  Yet, shall I not have at least a sight of your loved faces ere I go hence to return no more?

“Lovingly, Eric.”

Elsie could scarce see the signature from the fast-falling tears.

“The dear brother!” she sobbed.  “But, oh, Lester, be comforted!  His troubles and trials are almost over, the battle nearly ended, the victory well-nigh won; and we know he will come off more than conqueror through Him that loved him!”

“Yes, I know, I know it; but he has been a dear brother to me, and, oh, how can I learn to live without him!” he answered, in tones quivering with emotion.

“’Twill only be for a time, love, and then you will be restored to each other, never to part any more forever,” Elsie said softly, with her arm about her husband’s neck, while her tears mingled with his, and her sweet lips were pressed again and again to his cheek.

He folded her in a close embrace.

“My dear, sweet, precious comforter,” he said, “I can never be unhappy while God spares me my wife.”

“Nor I, while I have you, dearest,” she responded, with an added caress.  “And we will go to poor Eric instead of with mamma and the rest to Nantucket.”

“My sweet one, I could not ask so great a sacrifice from you,” he said.

“I can hardly feel it to be such when I think of your poor brother—­our brother; for is he not mine also?  We will go to him instead, and I know it will be with mamma’s approval, grandpa’s also.  Ah, here they both come!” she exclaimed, in a tone of satisfaction, as the Ion family carriage was seen approaching through the avenue.

In another moment it had drawn up before the entrance, and Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter alighted.  With the quick eye of affection the mother at once noted the sadness of her daughter’s countenance, of Lester’s also, and scarcely had she exchanged the morning greetings with them ere she inquired the cause.