And at that bed, by day and night, whenever he could snatch an hour from his varied duties, was Henry Tracy. His friendship had just begun to kindle into warmth, when he saw that it must soon be extinguished. William loved to have him near; he loved to hear him converse about those realities which now alone absorbed his spirit; and well did Henry know how to deal out the precious manna; so soft and clear, in tones that fell like heavenly music on the ear. He talked about the Saviour--for, to Henry, the name of Jesus was a name to quicken every pulse, and fill the heart with holy joy; and when he spoke of Him, it was as though he talked about a friend whose ardent sympathies beat in unison with his own; a friend who loved, who was now near at hand, feeling for all his woes, smoothing the dying pillow, taking away the sting of death, and preparing a triumphant passage for his soul into his own blest home. William drank in his words until his spirit rejoiced within him, and longed to depart. He had a strange pleasure, too, in seeing Hettie stand by the side of Henry and listen to his voice, until her face would glow with the holy fire it kindled in his breast; he could read in her glistening eye, perhaps, what few others could. William loved her even in death, and now, more than he had done for years past. He loved, too, Henry Tracy. As he gazed on them by turns, he felt how well suited they were to one another. He murmured something; Henry heard them, but though Hettie caught but a word, the rich colour that spread over her pale face, proved that she understood them. He spoke their names together, and he blessed them. Short were the hours after this that William struggled with the pains of life; around him were all the dear ones he had on earth; there was no violence of grief to trouble his departing spirit; hearts were bleeding silently, and as the last breath went to heaven, a moment all watched the still, sweet sleeper, and looked on silently while Mr. Rutherford closed his eyes, and then sat down and wept until their burdened spirits found relief. CHAPTER XXVIII. During all the period of Hettie's confinement around the sick bed of William Andrews, David saw nothing of her; he felt satisfied that she would not disclose what her brother had communicated to her. The efforts which, in the mean time, he was to make for the recovery of the lost document, were much relaxed by the interview with his father, as related in a former chapter. He saw now that his ultimate object might be gained, and suffered his selfish feelings to work their hateful purpose. He continued his attentions to William and his mother, and did much to supply to them the absence of Hettie.