Dr. Woodburn continued about the same all the following day, saving that he slept more.  The next day was Sunday, and Beth slept a little in the afternoon.  When she awakened she heard Dr. Mackay going down the hall, and May came in to take her in her arms and kiss her.  She sat down on the bed beside Beth, with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“Beth, your father has been such a good man.  He has done so much!  If God should call him home to his reward, would you—­would you refuse to give him up?”

Beth laid her head on May’s shoulder, sobbing.

“Oh, May—­is it—­death?” she asked, in a hoarse whisper.

“I fear so, dear.”

Beth wept long, and May let her grief have its way for a while, then drew her nearer to her heart.

“If Jesus comes for him, will you say ’no’?”

“His will be done,” she answered, when she grew calmer.

The next day lawyer Graham came and stayed with Dr. Woodburn some time, and Beth knew that all hope was past, but she wore a cheerful smile in her father’s presence during the few days that followed—­bright winter days, with sunshine and deep snow.  The jingle of sleigh-bells and the sound of merry voices passed in the street below as she listened to the labored breathing at her side.  It was the last day of the year that he raised his hand and smoothed her hair in his old-time way.

“Beth, I am going home.  You have been a good daughter—­my one great joy.  God bless you, my child.”  He paused a moment.  “You will have to teach, and I think you had better go back to college soon.  You’ll not miss me so much when you’re working.”

Beth pressed back her tears as she kissed him silently, and he soon fell asleep.  She went to the window and looked out on it all—­the clear, cold night sky with its myriads of stars, the brightly lighted windows and the snow-covered roofs of the town on the hill-slope, and the Erie, a frozen line of ice in the distant moonlight.  The town seemed unusually bright with lights, for it was the gay season of the year.  And, oh, if she but dared to give vent to that sob rising in her throat!  She turned to the sleeper again; a little later he opened his eyes with a bright smile.

“In the everlasting arms,” he whispered faintly, then pointed to a picture of Arthur on the table.  Beth brought it to him.  He looked at it tenderly, then gave it back to her.  He tried to say something, and she bent over him to catch the words, but all was silent there; his eyes were closed, his lips set in a smile.  Her head sank upon his breast.  “Papa!” she cried.

No answer, not even the sound of heartbeats.  There was a noiseless step at her side, and she fell back, unconscious, into May’s arms.  When she came to again she was in her own room, and Mr. Perth was by her side.  Then the sense of her loss swept over her, and he let her grief have its way for a while.

“My child,” he said at last, bending over her.  How those two words soothed her!  He talked to her tenderly for a little while, and she looked much calmer when May came back.