George Taylor, a cousin to this family, was seated at his desk in the office when his attention was called by a rap at the door. George opened the door, and the old servant came in. “It is all over, sir,” he said; his manner strangely still, his voice unnaturally calm and low, as is sometimes the case where emotion is striven to be suppressed. Miss Mary bade me come to you with the tidings. George’s bearing was suspiciously quiet, too. “It is very sudden,” he presently rejoined. “Very sudden, sir, and yet my mistress did not seem unprepared for it, he took his tea with her, and was so cheerful over it that I began to hope he had taken a fresh turn, my mistress called me in to give directions about a little matter she wanted done to-morrow, and while she was speaking to me, Miss Matilda cried out. We turned round and saw her leaning over my master, he had slipped back in his chair powerless, and I hastened to raise and support him. Death was in his face, there was no mistaking it, but he was quite conscious, quite sensible and smiled at us. ‘I must say farewell to you,’ he said, and Miss Matilda burst into a fit of sobs, but my mistress kneeled down quietly before him and took his hands in hers and said, ‘Charles, is the moment come?’ ‘Yes, it is come;’ he answered, and tried to look round at Miss Matilda, who stood a little behind his chair. ‘Don’t grieve,’ he said, ‘I am going on first,’ but she only sobbed the more. ‘Good by, my dear ones,’ he continued, ‘I shall wait for you all as I know I am being waited for.’ ‘Fear?’ he went on, for Miss Matilda sobbed out something that sounded like the word. ‘Fear, when I am going to God, when I saw Jesus--Jesus--’” George fairly broke down with a great burst of grief, and the tears were silently rolling over the old man’s cheeks. “It was the last word he spoke, ‘Jesus,’ his voice ceased, his hands fell, and the eyelids dropped, there was no struggle, nothing but a long gentle breath, and he died with the smile upon his lips.” Cousin George leaned his head on the side of the window to subdue his emotion, to gather the outward calmness that man likes not to have ruffled before the world; he listened to the strokes of the passing bell ringing out so sharply in the still night air, and every separate stroke was laden with its weight of pain.