The day faded quickly in the west, and the firelight alone illumined the room. Ralph, from his corner by the chimney-breast, could see the faces of all the others. Ruth looked sweeter and almost prettier than he had ever seen her. The chastening hand of sorrow had softened the look in her dark-brown eyes and touched with melancholy the curves of her rich, full lips. His mother had aged rapidly. She looked ten years older than she did ten weeks ago. Trouble had ploughed its furrows deep, and all the light of hope had gone out of her eyes. But his father was the most pathetic figure of all. Ralph looked across at him every now and then, and wondered if he would ever rouse himself again. He looked so worn, so feeble, so despairing, it would have been a relief to see him get angry. Ruth had got up at length and lighted the lamp and drew the blind; then, without a word, sat down again. The wind continued to rumble in the chimney and sough in the trees outside; but, save for that, no sound broke the silence. There were no sheep in the pens, no cows in the shippen, no horses in the stable, and no neighbour came in to say good-bye. The evening wore away until it grew late. Then David rose and got the family Bible and laid it on the table, so that the light of the lamp fell upon its pages. Drawing up his chair, he sat down and began to read-- "'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.'" His voice did not falter in the least. Quietly, and without emphasis, he read the psalm through to the end; then he knelt on the floor, with his hands on the chair, the others following his example. His prayer was very simple that night. He made no direct allusion to the great trouble that was eating at all their hearts. He gave thanks for the mercies of the day, and asked for strength to meet the future. "Now, my dears," he said, as he rose from his knees, "we had better get off to bed." And he smiled with great sweetness, and Ruth recalled afterwards how he kissed her several times. But if he had any premonition of what was coming, he did not betray it by a single word. CHAPTER X RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND It was toward the dawn when Ralph was roused out of a deep sleep by a violent knocking at his bedroom door. "Yes," he called, springing up in bed and staring into the semi-darkness. "Come quickly; your father is very ill!" It was his mother who spoke, and her voice was vibrant and anxious. He sprang out of bed at once, and hurriedly got into his clothes. In a few moments he was by his father's bedside. At first he thought that his mother had alarmed herself and him unnecessarily. David lay on his side as if asleep. "I cannot rouse him," she said in gasps. "I've tried every way, but he doesn't move." Ralph laid his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him, but there was no response of any kind. "He must be dead," his mother said.