"No, dear," he answered gently, hoping Tom would be satisfied without further questions. "Shall I go back to her by-and-by?" asked Tom piteously. "No, dear," answered his father tenderly; "she is gone away for a little while." "She? Gone away and left me?" "God sent for her, my child." Tom was silent; at last he said softly: "Will she come back, papa?" "No, my dear; we shall go to be with her, but she will never come back." Then, overpowered by the expression in words of the dreadful certainty, he clasped his arms tighter round the frail form, and deep sobs of agony broke from him. Tom needed no further telling, and such an anguish swept over him, that afterwards, he wondered it had not killed him. At first he could only wail out, "Mamma, mamma!" But by-and-by, he became aware that his father's grief must be as great as his, and, used latterly to think of others, he at last checked his wild sobs, and began to quiet his quailing heart. After a few minutes, he left off crying, and put his thin little hand up to his father's face. "Dear papa," he said soothingly, "dear papa, we shall see her again." The strong arms pressed him, and the awful sobs stilled a little. "She would be so grieved for you, if she could see—" murmured the little comforter. His father roused himself. "You are right, dear; and I would not have her see. We will pray, my child." He bent his head over his little son, but no words would come. Tom lay still, looking first at him, and then upwards; and at last Dr. Arundel spoke. "I thank Thee, yes, I thank Thee, that Thou hast so tenderly taken my darling to be with Thee; and I say from my heart that I give her up to Thee!" There was a long, deep silence after this, while the sun gradually rose and peeped in at the window, and stole along the floor till its bright rays touched little Tom's pale face. "See, papa," he said softly, "the Sun of righteousness has arisen, with healing in His wings." * * * * * * * Nellie, entering the nursery about an hour after her father had told her the sad news, found all the little ones creeping about on tiptoe, afraid of disturbing the loved mother beneath. Mary looked up in her face, and knew all the moment their eyes met. Nellie went straight over to the baby, and took him on her lap, and then drew Dolly to her knee. "You've been crying," said Dolly, looking anxiously in her face. "Yes," answered Nellie quietly; "but I want to tell you all something. Come, Netta and Isabel, darlings, come close to me." "Is mamma worse?" asked Isabel. "No, dear children, she is better; she is gone to be with Jesus." "Gone?" said Dolly, with such a wail that Nellie's calmness almost gave way. "Yes," she said, steadying her voice again; "her spirit is gone to heaven to be with God. By-and-by, you shall go in and kiss her dear face once more; but she will not know anything about it, because her spirit is away, quite happy with God."