And now for the first time it struck her that thus he was trying to
prepare her to do without him--the earthly parent who had been hitherto
the confidant of all her childish griefs, perplexities, hopes, joys, and
fears; and with the thought the conviction deepened that he was indeed
passing away to that bourne whence no traveler returns.
Tears were stealing between the slender fingers, low, deep sobs shaking
her slight frame, when a hand was gently laid upon her shoulder, and a
sweet-toned voice asked in tender accents, "What is it, Evelyn, dear?"
"O Aunt Elsie," cried the little girl, lifting a tear-stained face, "you
will tell me the truth! Is my dear papa--No, no, I can't say it! but oh,
do you think we may hope he will soon be well again?"
"Dear child," Elsie said, in quivering tones, as she seated herself and,
putting an arm about the little girl's waist, drew her close with a
tender caress, "he is very ill, but 'while there is life there is hope,'
for with God all things are possible."
"Oh I know--I understand what that means!" cried Evelyn in anguished
accents, "he is dying!--my dear, dear father!"
"My poor child, my poor, dear child!" Elsie said, her tears falling fast,
"I can feel for you, for it is not very long since I stood by the
deathbed of a dear father.
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