WEALTH WITHOUT WINGS. 21

 

alone in a chamber, the furniture of which, though
neither elegant nor costly, evinced taste and refine-
ment. Lying upon a bed was a man, evidently near
the time of his departure from earth. By his side,
and bending over him, was a woman almost as pale
as himself. A little girl, not above five years of
age, sat on the foot of the bed, with her eyes fixed
on the countenance of her father, for such was the
relation borne to her by the sick man. A lovely
creature she was—beautiful even beyond the com-
mon beauty of childhood. For a time a solemn
stillness reigned through the chamber. A few low-
spoken words had passed between the parents of the
child, and then, for a brief period, all was deep, op-
pressive silence. This was interrupted, at length,
by the mother’s unrestrained sobs, as she laid her
face upon the bosom of her husband, so soon to be
taken from her, and wept aloud.

No word of remonstrance or comfort came from
the sick man’s lips. He only drew his arm about
the weeper’s neck, and held her closer to his heart.

The troubled waters soon ran clear: there was ~

calmness in their depths.

“Tt is but for a little while, Fanny,” said he, in
a feeble yet steady voice; “only for a little
while.”’

‘“‘T know; I feel that here,’’ was replied, as a
thin, white hand was laid against the~ speaker’s
ae “And I could patiently await my time,

eat sscsiainnin

Her eyes glanced yearningly toward the child,
who sat gazing upon her parents, with an instinct
of approaching evil at her heart.