"I cannot leave my friends to bear my burdens." "They will not speak--of them--as they--will speak of--you, my--poor--boy. You--are--old--Tom Brent's--son. I--wish I could take--my name--an' all--it means--along--with--me. But--promise--me--you--will--go. Promise--" "I will go if you so wish it." "Thank--you. An'--now--good-bye. I--can't talk--any--more. I don't dare--to advise--you--after--all--you--know--of me; but do--right--do right." The hand relaxed and the eyelids closed. Brent thought that he was dead, and prompted by some impulse, bent down and kissed his father's brow,--his father, after all. A smile flitted over the pale face, but the eyes did not open. But he did not die then. Fred called Mrs. Hodges and left her with his father while he sat with Eliphalet. It was not until the next morning, when the air was full of sunlight, the song of birds, and the chime of church bells, that old Tom Brent's weary spirit passed out on its search for God. He had not spoken after his talk with his son. There were heavy hearts about his bed, but there were no tears, no sorrow for his death,--only regret for the manner of his life. Mrs. Hodges and Eliphalet agreed that the dead man had been right in wishing his son to go away, and, after doing what he could to lighten their load, he again stood on the threshold, leaving his old sad home. Mrs. Hodges bade him good-bye at the door, and went back. She was too bowed to seem hard any more, or even to pretend it. But Eliphalet followed him to the gate. The two stood holding each other's hands and gazing into each other's eyes. "I know you 're a-goin' to do right without me a-tellin' you to," said the old man, chokingly. "That 's all I want of you. Even ef you don't preach, you kin live an' work fur Him." "I shall do all the good I can, Uncle 'Liph, but I shall do it in the name of poor humanity until I come nearer to Him. I am dazed and confused now, and want the truth." "Go on, my boy; you 're safe. You 've got the truth now, only you don't know it; fur they 's One that says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.'" Another hearty hand-shake, and the young man was gone. As Fred went down the street, some one accosted him and said, "I hear yore father 's home." "Yes, he 's home," said Fred. Tom Brent was buried on Tuesday morning. The Rev. Mr. Simpson, who, in spite of his age, had been prevailed upon to resume charge of his church, preached the sermon. He spoke feelingly of the "dear departed brother, who, though late, had found acceptance with the Lord," and he ended with a prayer--which was a shot--for the "departed's misguided son, who had rejected his Master's call and was now wandering over the earth in rebellion and sin." It was well that he did not see the face of Eliphalet Hodges then.