"How is my father?" he asked; and his mother replied, "He grew worse
right away after 'Leny went out, and he seemed so put to't for
breath, that Nancy went for the doctor----"

Here a movement from the invalid arrested her attention and going to
the bedside she saw that he was awake. Bending over him she
whispered softly, "John has come. Would you like to see him?"

Quickly the feeble arms were outstretched, as if to feel what could
not be seen, for the old man's eyesight was dim with the shadows of
death.

Taking both his father's hands in his, John said, "Here I am, father;
can't you see me?"

"No, John, no; I can't see you." And the poor man wept like a little
child. Soon growing more calm, he continued: "Your voice is the same
that it was years ago, when you lived with us at home. That hasn't
changed, though they say your name has. Oh, John, my boy, how could
you do so? 'Twas a good name--my name--and you the only one left to
bear it. What made you do so, oh John, John?"

Mr. Livingstone did not reply, and after a moment his father again
spoke; "John, lay your hand on my forehead. It's cold as ice. I am
dying, and your mother will be left alone. We are poor, my son;
poorer than you think. The homestead is mortgaged for all it's worth
and there are only a few dollars in the purse. Oh, I worked so hard
to earn them for her and the girl--Helena's child. Now, John,
promise me that when I am gone they shall go with you to your home in