"Thee must not talk, friend. If thee hast need of anything, can thee not make a sign?" He gave them to understand that he wanted water. This was given to him, and he appeared to be more composed. "There is nothing else that I can do just now," observed Patience. "I will go back and take thy little girl with me. See her, hiding there!" Patience did so. Betsy cowered over the fire in the kitchen, and the three boys and their mother stood round the dying man. "Children!" he gasped. "Oh, Edgar! do not speak!" interrupted Jane. He smiled as he looked at her, very much as though he knew that it did not matter whether he spoke or remained silent. "I am at the journey's end, Jane; close to the light. Children," he panted at slow intervals, "when I told you my dream, I little thought it was only a type of the present reality. I think it was sent to me that I might tell it you, for I now see its meaning. You are travelling on to that light, as I thought I was--as I have been. You will have the same stumbling-blocks to walk over; none are exempt from them; trials, and temptations, and sorrows, and drawbacks. But the light is there, ever shining to guide you, for it is Heaven. Will you always look up to it?" He gathered their hands together, and held them between his. The boys, awe-struck, bewildered with terror and grief, could only gaze in silence and listen. "The light is God, my children. He is above you, and below you, and round about you everywhere. He is ready to help you at every step and turn. Make Him your guide; put your whole dependence upon Him, implicitly trust to Him to lighten your path, so that you may see to walk in it. He cannot fail. Look up to Him, and you will be unerringly guided, though it may be--though it probably will be--only step by step. Never lose your trust in God, and then rest assured He will conduct you to His own bright ending. Jane, let them take it to their hearts! May God bless you, my dear ones! and bring you to me hereafter!" He ceased, and lay exhausted; his eyes fondly seeking Jane's, her hand clasped in his. Jane's own eyes were dry and burning, and she appeared to be unnaturally calm. Gradually the fading eyes closed. In a very short time the knock of Samuel Lynn was heard at the door. He had brought the doctor. William, passing his handkerchief over his wet face, went to open it. Mr. Parry stepped into the room, and Jane moved from beside her husband to give place to him. "He sighed heavily a minute or two ago," she whispered. The surgeon looked at him. He bent his ear to the open mouth, and then gently unbuttoned the waistcoat, and listened for the beating of the heart. "His life passed away in that sigh," murmured the doctor to Jane. It was even so. Edgar Halliburton had gone into the light. CHAPTER XV. THE FUNERAL.