“Come here, Zoe, darling,” her father said, “our time grows short;” and Edward led her to the bedside.

“O papa, papa!” she sobbed, falling on her knees and laying her wet cheek to his.

Edward, with heart and eyes full to overflowing, moved softly away to the farther side of the room, that in this last sad interview the constraint of even his presence might not be felt.

Low sobs and murmured words of tenderness and fatherly counsel reached his ear, and his heart went up in silent prayer for both the dying one and her just about to be so sorely bereaved.

Presently footsteps approached the door opening into the passage, a gentle tap followed, and he admitted the minister who had been sent for, beckoning Ben to come in also.

A few whispered words passed between Edward and the minister, then both drew near the bed.

A brief talk with the dying man, in which he professed himself ready and willing to depart, trusting in the atoning blood and imputed righteousness of Christ, a short fervent prayer for him and his child, then Edward, leaning over the still kneeling, weeping Zoe, whispered, “Now, dearest!”

The tear-dimmed eyes looked up inquiringly.

“We are going to belong to each other, are we not?” he said very low and tenderly.  “The minister is ready now to speak the words that will make us one for the rest of our lives.”

Without speaking she rose, wiping away her tears, put her hand within his arm, and the ceremony began.

When it was over Edward took her in his arms, saying softly as he pressed his lips again and again to her forehead, her cheek, her lips, “My wife, my own dear little wife!”

“My child! my darling!” murmured the father, feebly reaching for her hand.

Edward took it and put it into his.

The dying fingers closed feebly over it.  “Lord, I thank thee for this great mercy!  ‘Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.’”

The words came low and faintly from the lips already growing cold in death, a gasp for breath followed, and all was still, no sound in the room but Zoe’s wild weeping, while with silent caresses Edward held her to his heart.

They laid him to rest in the nearest Protestant cemetery, for such had been his request.

In answer to a question from her young husband, Zoe said, “No, no.  I shall not wear mourning!  I detest it, and so did papa.  He made me promise I would not wear it for him.  I shall dress in white whenever it is suitable.  That is if you like it,” she added quickly.  “Oh, I shall try to please you always, dear Edward, for you are all I have in the world, and so, so dear and good to me!” and her head went down upon his breast.

“My darling little wife!” he said, holding her close, “you are so dear and lovely in my eyes that I find you beautiful in everything you wear.  Yet I am glad you do not care to assume that gloomy dress.”