“No, no, not yet! Stay by me, darling read something there, in Grandfather's old book, some prayer for such as I. It will do me more good from you than any minister alive.” She got the venerable book given to Charlie because he bore the good man's name and, turning to the “Prayer for the Dying,” read it brokenly while the voice beside her echoed now and then some word that reproved or comforted. “The testimony of a good conscience.” “By the sadness of his countenance may his heart be made better.” “Christian patience and fortitude.” “Leave the world in peace.” “Amen.” There was silence for a little; then Rose, seeing how wan he looked, said softly, “Shall I call Uncle now?” “If you will. But first don't smile at my foolishness, dear I want my little heart. They took it off please give it back and let me keep it always,” he answered with the old fondness strong as ever, even when he could show it only by holding fast the childish trinket which she found and had given him the old agate heart with the faded ribbon. “Put it on, and never let them take it off,” he said, and when she asked if there was anything else she could do for him, he tried to stretch out his arms to her with a look which asked for more. She kissed him very tenderly on lips and forehead, tried to say “good-bye,” but could not speak, and groped her way to the door. Turning for a last look, Charlie's hopeful spirit rose for a moment, as if anxious to send her away more cheerful, and he said with a shadow of the old blithe smile, a feeble attempt at the familiar farewell gesture: “Till tomorrow, Rose.” Alas for Charlie! His tomorrow never came, and when she saw him next, he lay there looking so serene and noble, it seemed as if it must be well with him, for all the pain was past; temptation ended; doubt and fear, hope and love, could no more stir his quiet heart, and in solemn truth he had gone to meet his Father, and begin again. Chapter 16 GOOD WORKS The Rajah was delayed awhile, and when it sailed poor Mrs. Clara was on board, for everything was ready. All thought she had better go to comfort her husband, and since her boy died she seemed to care very little what became of her. So, with friends to cheer the long voyage, she sailed away, a heavyhearted woman, yet not quite disconsolate, for she knew her mourning was excessively becoming and felt sure that Stephen would not find her altered by her trials as much as might have been expected. Then nothing was left of that gay household but the empty rooms, silence never broken by a blithe voice anymore, and pictures full of promise, but all unfinished, like poor Charlie's life. There was much mourning for the bonny Prince, but no need to tell of it except as it affected Rose, for it is with her we have most to do, the other characters being of secondary importance.