“I will, so help me God!” said Mr. Turner, and they took their seats, while Clara, with a motion that said please come, called: 

“Matthias and Aunt Peg, and you too, John, don’t think I can ever forget you.  You will come to me, and you will know me there, and, John, you have a wonderful work to do; your words will bear sweet tidings to your race, and your reward shall be that of the well-doer.”

“Oh, de good Lord! white lamb, how kin we ever let you go; you’s done got hold on our heart-strings!  Oh, de good Lord bless ye, ye snow-white darlin’, an’ ef it’s de Mas’r’s will, den we mus’ lib all in the dark widout ye, but de light ob your eyes is hevin to dis ole heart!”

“Oh, that’s true’ nuf!” said Aunt Peg, “God’ll take care on you, but what’ll we do?” and their groans fell like the wailing winds upon the ears of us all; our hearts were touched to their inmost chords.

“Mr. Davis,” said Clara, and her eyes dilated with a wondrous light while her voice grew unnaturally strong, “I am to see your wife.  Shall I say you are looking forward to meeting her?”

“Just that, and it will not be long,” and he bowed his head as he held in both his own her white hand.

“Halbert and Mary, come and let me bless you.  My brother and sister, you are so dear to me.  You, Halbert, have a wondrous touch; you stand before the shrine of art, and ere many years a people’s verdict shall more than seal your heart’s desire; a master artist you shall be, my friend.”

“Oh, Clara, Clara!” said Hal—­

“Yes,” she continued, “Love’s fawn has won the prize for you at home and abroad; I leave to you a friend,—­Louis will attend to it all,—­and among the little ones who come there will be some who have, like you, talent; help them as you shall see fit.”

He could only bow his head, while Mary, sobbing as if her heart would break, said: 

“Do not go; oh, do not leave us!”

Clara closed her eyes and sank back among her cushions almost breathless.  We took her hands, Louis and I, and I feared she would never speak again.  Tearful and motionless these beloved ones sat about her, and at last, when the crimson and gold swept like a full tide of glory the broad western expanse that lay before us, she raised herself, looked into all our faces, held her lips for a last kiss from us of the household, and said in tones as clear as silver bells: 

“I am going now; he is coming.  Aunt Hildy, you will come soon.  Emily, love my Louis.  Louis, kiss me again; fold close the falling garment.  Baby, breathe on me once more—­Louis Robert.  Oh, this is beautiful!”

Her head dropped on Louis’ shoulder.  Slowly the eyelids covered the beautiful eyes.