of his son with a bewildered stare, his mind too weak to comprehend
the truth. But soon he too was sobbing for joy.

But when his wife suddenly became a lifeless weight in his son's arms,
who in wild alarm cried, "Mother, what is the matter? Speak to me! Oh!
I have killed her by my rash entrance," the sick man's manner changed,
and his eyes again became dry and hard, and even in the darkness had
a strange glitter.

"Is your mother dead?" he asked, in a low, hoarse voice.

"Oh, mother, speak to me!" cried the son, forgetting for a time his
father.

For a moment there was death-like silence. Then the young man groped
for an old settle in the corner of the room, laid his mother tenderly
upon it, and sprang for a light, but as he passed his father's bed the
same strong grasp fell upon his arm that his mother had shuddered under
a little before, and the question was this time hissed in his ear, "Is
your mother dead?" For a moment he had no power to answer, and his
father continued: "What a fool I was to expect God to show mercy or
kindness to me or mine while I was above ground! You are only brought
home to suffer more than death in seeing your mother die. May that God
that has followed me all my life, not with blessings--"

"Hush, father!" cried his son, in loud, commanding tones. "Hush, I
entreat," and in his desperation he actually put his hand over his
father's mouth.

The poor woman must have been dead, indeed, had she long remained deaf