pale despair that had fallen on Charlie's face with those bitter words.
"'Forgive us our trespasses!' Yes, I should say that. Rose, I'm not ready; it is so sudden: what can I do?" he whispered, clinging to her, as if he had no anchor except the creature whom he loved so much.
"Uncle will tell you: I am not good enough; I can only pray for you," and she moved as if to call in the help so sorely needed.
"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,
