Noiselessly he opened the outer
door, proceeding to the upper drawing-room, which opened to the room of
the dying one. Mr. Santon sat with his face buried in his hands, sobbing
aloud. Mr. Delwood took him tenderly by the hand, and whispered a few
words in his ear, which seemed to rouse him from the dreadful state of
mind to which he had yielded. "You find here a house of mourning," he
said, "but your presence is most welcome."
"What can I do for you in this trying hour?" asked Delwood; "can I be of
any assistance?"
"There is nothing to be done but to submit to the will of God," he
answered, "and I pray that I may have strength so to do." The door of
the chamber of death was opened, and the physician summoned Mr. Santon
to his dying wife's bedside. Delwood stood in the door; pale, but not
emaciated were the features upon which death had set his seal, her last
moment was near, but she had strength and consciousness supported by the
Sea-flower, to say a few parting words; with one hand in that of her
husband, the other upon the head of her grief-stricken daughter, she
said: "farewell, my dearest husband; it is but a little parting; you
will meet me there at last.
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