“It is useless,” said he, comprehending her purpose, “let us speak of what concerns us more, or let us enjoy each other’s society in silence. When with you I can even now speak of enjoyment.” “I hope you will speak of it and feel it when I am gone; but I know that you cannot unless your affections are set in right tune by the hand of God. You are different from all other men. In my young dreams I used to fancy one whose whole life should consist in the exercise of affection. I never expected to find such a being. I have found one. Those affections will be to you ministers of sorrow, unless they are fixed upon something more enduring than an earthly object.” “I can now think of nothing but you. If I am to have you but for a short time longer, do not attempt to turn my thoughts to other things. If I survive you, I will do all you wish.” “I shall insist on the fulfillment of that promise.” “Can you tell me,” said Willard, after a brief interval of silence, “why the heartless and cruel are suffered to remain, while the pure and gentle are taken away?” “I cannot. I cannot tell why the summer flower was not made to endure as long as the mountain rock. We can only refer it to the wisdom and the will of God. But I begin to feel too much fatigued to converse longer. Will you read to me?” “From what book?” “From this, if you have no objection”—handing him a small copy of the New Testament, which she drew from her bosom. He took it and pressed it to his lips. He then read chapter after chapter, as she named them to him. Occasionally he would steal a glance at her countenance as she shaded her closed eyelids with her hand—beautiful as a statue, yet revealing the priceless soul in every vein. “I wish you could pray with me,” she whispered, as he closed the volume and rose to depart. “I cannot,” was the reply. This answer did not drive away the smile that was upon her lips—it was transferred to his, as they met. “How long before you return to college?” “I shall never leave you again.” He retired. His last expression caused a flowing of tears more copious and exhausting than had been shed during the whole period of her decline. Day after day Carlton took his station in the chamber of the consumptive, and watched her rapidly decaying strength. He spent much time in reading to her, occasionally from their favorite poets, but generally from the sacred volume. He thus became familiar with its truths, and no longer wondered at the calm confidence with which his beloved could look forward to lying down in the dark and narrow house.