so little attention to Mr. Ward's recommendations that his sons and
daughters were in continual dread of his choosing to do something
that might cause injurious agitation.

However, he did not go further than Margaret's bedroom where he sat
hour after hour his eyes fixed upon her, as she continued in a state
bordering on insensibility. He took little notice of anything else,
and hardly spoke. There were heavy sighs now and then, but Richard
and Flora, one or other of whom were always watching him, could
hardly tell whether to ascribe them to the oppression of sorrow or of
suffering. Their great fear was of his insisting on seeing his
wife's face, and it was a great relief that he never alluded to her,
except once, to desire Richard to bring him her ring. Richard
silently obeyed, and, without a word, he placed it on his little
finger. Richard used to read the Psalms to him in the morning,
before he was up, and Flora would bring little Daisy and lay her by
his side.

To the last moment they dreaded his choosing to attend the funeral,
and Flora had decided on remaining at home, though trembling at the
thought of what there might be to go through. They tried to let him
hear nothing about it, but he seemed to know everything; and when
Flora came into Margaret's room without her bonnet, he raised his
head, and said, "I thought you were all going."

"The others are--but may I not stay with you and her, papa?"

"I had rather be alone, my dears. I will take care of her. I should
wish you all to be there."