Tom lay with wide staring eyes, battling with himself to keep his promise, and succeeding; for when his mother put out her hand to take his, he was able to clasp it quietly and to whisper, "'He is able to keep;' mamma, dear." "Yes," she answered with a sob; "able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that day." "I meant that," said Tom. So she fell asleep quietly, resting her weary heart on those blessed words. They sat silently by her for some time, but presently Dr. Arundel whispered to them to go to bed. Ada came and stood by the bedside and looked down on her mother; then, turning away, she left the room in obedience to her father's wish. "I will stay with her till two o'clock," said Dr. Arundel to the nurse, "then you can come." He sat down by her, and the only sound within was the ticking of his watch, while without, the roar and rumble of the great city went on the same as ever. Every half-hour he was forced to disturb her, to take the required food or medicine; but he allowed her to rest again without rousing her to speak. When, after an hour or two's quiet sleep, she opened her eyes, she found only her husband by her and little Tom breathing softly on her pillow. "How little we thought, dear, it could be like this," she said. "How do you feel, love, now?" he asked. "Oh; so very tired, but so happy! It will not be long before I see Jesus." "Not in pain?" "Oh, no," she whispered; "only peace. I did not know that it could be so; that He would be able to make me willing." "He is 'able' for all things, my precious one," he said tenderly, clasping her hand. "Yes, dearest," she answered, laying her cheek on the loved hand which had supported her for so many years. "Yes, dearest, He is able to keep—you, and me, and them." She fell asleep again, while Dr. Arundel sat on in the quiet hours, still with her face on his hand. His practised eyes saw now that there was no hope. Slowly, slowly, life ebbed away. As he watched, she gave one sigh, and he knew her ransomed spirit had passed from earth, to be with Him whom she had loved and served all her life. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XV. SUNRISE. THE early daylight was stealing into the room, when Dr. Arundel became certain that his dearly-loved one was no longer there. He drew his hand from under the sweet cheek, which had not been wasted by long illness, and gently laid her back by little Tom. He knelt down by her side and laid his head against her arm. "My dear, my dear," he said softly, "what shall I do without you?" Then, afraid lest Nurse Raymond should come in, he pressed one kiss on the lifeless lips, and promising himself some quiet time with his beloved by-and-by, he went round the bed to lift little Tom from his resting-place. Nurse Raymond entered at the moment; and as they carried Tom into the next room, his father heard him murmur: "What is it, papa? Why are you moving me? Doesn't she want me any more?"