This plan Edith did not oppose, but before Gertie could write there came a letter from Robert Macpherson, saying that Mrs. Lyle was dead and the cottage vacant, for Mr. Nesbit had taken his wife and children to the north of Scotland, where his boyhood was passed. As Gertie had no particular interest in Jenny, her letter was not written, but through her influence provision was made for the education of Jennie’s children, especially the boy, who bore Godfrey’s name. CHAPTER LXIV., AND LAST. The Schuylers all remained in Hampstead the winter after Gertie’s marriage, and our little town was the pleasanter and gayer for it. Only one sad thing occurred,—and that, the death of poor Tom, which took place about Christmas time, when we were hanging our garlands of evergreens in the church and making ready for our annual festival. I was sitting by Gertie working upon the same wreath, when the news was brought to us, and I saw the tears, which came with a rush to her eyes, and knew she was thinking of the hopeless love which had, no doubt, shortened poor Tom’s life. “Tell Gertie,” he said to his sister, when the death-sweat was on his brow, and his utterance was thick and indistinct; “tell Gertie I loved her till the last, and blessed her with my dying breath, for she helped make me a man. But for her I should fill a drunkard’s grave and meet a drunkard’s doom. She warned me of my peril; she led me back from the brink of ruin; and if I am saved, as I hope to be, I shall be a star in her crown of glory, as the sinner whom she converted from his evil ways. Heaven bless her, and Godfrey, too; they are worthy of each other.” These were Tom’s last words, and Gertie cried as if her heart would break when Rosamond repeated them to her the week after Tom’s funeral when she came to say good-by. They were going away from the Ridge House, Rosamond said, and the place was for sale. She wished Godfrey would buy it; she would rather see him and Gertie there than strangers, who had never known or cared for her and her mother. The idea of a home of her own was a pleasant one to Gertie, and a few days after Godfrey rode up to the Ridge to confer with Mrs. Barton. But another had been before him and bought the place, and some time in February was to take possession. Godfrey’s horse never galloped a distance of two miles and a half more swiftly than on that day when his rider was charged with so important news. “Gertie, Gertie, I say, where are you? Look here!” he exclaimed, as he bolted into the room where she was sitting. “Guess how the rector proposes to keep Lent! What cross is he going to bear!” Gertie could only look at him in surprise, while he went on: “He has bought the Ridge House, and is going to take a wife, just before Ash-Wednesday! Think of Alice Creighton running a sewing society and having a church sociable!”