“In the hope that the stern discipline of a soldier’s life may fit him for the duties which will be his at home.  The lad needs above all things to learn to obey.  Till he has mastered the lesson of submission, he can never be fit to hold the reins of government.  That lesson he will learn most quickly in the life of the camp.  There he will be no great man, but an overgrown boy to be taught and drilled.  Young Tom needs to find his own level.  That is what he never will do at home.  He has lorded it over the neighbourhood too long already.”

“But if he leaves us and goes forth into the world, who will care for his immortal soul?” asked the mother, with tears in her eyes.

“Has he listened to our words of admonition and warning at home?” asked the Squire, with a strange look in his glazing eyes.  “Nay, wife, I feel as I lie here dying, that the life of the soul is something we poor frail human creatures must not try too much to touch.  The Spirit of God will work in His own time.  We may pray and weep and plead before God for an erring son, and we believe our prayers will be answered; but it will be in His time, not in our own.  And time and place are no barriers with Him.  He will do for Tom, I will not doubt it, what we have failed to do with all our pains and care.”

The mother wept silently—­for the husband whose life was ebbing away; for the son over whose heart she seemed to have so little control; for herself, soon to be left alone in the world, with only her daughter for her prop and stay.  She was not a weak or helpless creature.  She had been in her husband’s confidence, and had been his helpmeet throughout their married life.  She was well able to carry on single-handed the course of action he had pursued through his long rule at Gablehurst; yet not the less for this did she feel the desolation of her approaching widowhood; and it seemed an additional sorrow (although she recognized its necessity) that Tom was also to be taken from her.

A mother’s love for her only son is a very sacred and compelling thing.  Tom had not been a comfort or support to his parents; he was likely, if he remained, to be a source of endless trouble to his mother during her reign at the old house; yet none the less did it seem to her a heart-breaking thing to have to part from him.

The light about them grew more dim as the fire burned with a steady glow instead of with dancing flames.  Rachel had lighted a lamp, yet it did little to illumine the great room.  The sick man lay as though asleep.

Presently the mother spoke in a whisper to her daughter.

“Fetch Tom,” she said.

Rachel knew what that meant, and her heart beat to suffocation.  She crept from the room, and returned with her brother, and they stood side by side at one side of the bed, whilst their mother knelt at the other.

Once the dying man opened his eyes, and looked from one to another of those about him, though whether he saw them they did not know.  Then his eyes closed, he gave a sigh, and turned upon his pillows.