Roland listened to his mother's words as though it were a voice from Heaven, and to him it was; for the message of that hour guided all his earthly destiny. He rose with reverence; his feelings were too deep for utterance; pressing a kiss on either cheek, and on the calm pale forehead, he left the room, and bowed by his bed-side, poured out his young soul in fervent prayer. "What has been done, by the blessing of God, shall be done again," said Roland to himself--"'looking aloft,' trusting in God, I can do all things." The resolution of that silent hour was sublime; it was known to none but God; but doubtless a record was entered in the book of God's remembrance which was never blotted out, never revoked; and the name of Roland Bruce was seen by angels signed to that recorded dedication, and sealed by the precious blood of the Redeemer. From that day, the setting of life's sun to Mrs. Bruce was slow, sure, but glorious. "One more charge, Roland," said the mother, after an hour's converse; "be faithful to Effie; I need scarcely tell you that; but she is a delicate flower, and must be tenderly cherished, Roland; and after I am gone, in my top drawer, tied with a black ribbon, you will see a package; it is for you, Roland: I can trust you with your mother's history." Elsie Gibson had been absent for months from the neighborhood, but one evening suddenly she appeared at the cottage. She seemed much agitated on hearing how ill Mrs. Bruce was, and asked to see her. Conducted to the dying chamber, and standing by the bedside, she took the pale withered hand that lay upon the bed-clothes, and said: "Mary Bruce, this is a solemn hour; I trust that you are at peace with God." "Blessed be my Saviour's name! I am; I have no fears for the future, no anxiety for the present; death is swallowed up in victory." "Is there any message that you would send to any of your Scotch friends, Mary? I may go to Scotland ere long. Is there anything upon your mind, Mary?" "There is no one near, Elsie, is there?" anxiously inquired the invalid. "There is no one, Mary; we are all alone." "If you ever see my brother or any of my relations, give my love, and tell them how happy were my dying moments--and now, Elsie, you knew my husband in former days--do you know that sometimes I have felt that he was not dead. He was so singular, sometimes I thought he was deranged; he became so gloomy in latter years, that I have thought perhaps he is not dead; we never heard of it certainly, and then the supplies which I received so long must have come from him." "If he were alive, would you send him any message?" "I should like to tell him that I freely forgive any unkindness which he showed to me. He had sore trials to rend his heart, and so had I, Elsie. If he is alive, and has forsaken his family, I forgive him that too; because, if he is, I believe that it was done in an hour of great depression, perhaps insanity."