"Is your mind happy, Mildred?" asked the physician.

"You shall judge yourself. I die at peace with all men. I repent me
heartily of my sins. I place my hope in my Redeemer. I feel that he will
not desert me. I did never fear death, Wilford. I can smile upon him now."

"You will see a clergyman?"

"Yes, Wilford, an hour hence; not now. I have sent _her_ away, that I
might hear the worst from you. She must be recalled, and know that all is
fixed, and over. We will pray together--dear, faithful Margaret--sweet,
patient nurse! Heaven bless her!"

"She is to be pitied, Mildred. To die is the common lot. We are not all
doomed to mourn the loss of our beloved ones!"

"But, Wilford, you will be good and kind to her, and console her for my
loss. You are my executor and dearest friend. You will have regard to my
dying words, and watch over her. Be a father and a brother to her. You
will--will you not?"

"I will," answered the physician solemnly.

"Thank you, brother--thank you," replied the patient, pressing his
friend's hand warmly. "We are brothers now, Wilford--we were children,
schoolboys together. Do you remember the birds'-nesting--and the
apple-tree in the orchard? Oh, the happy scenes of my boyhood are fresher
in my memory to day than the occurrences of yesterday!"