passed by, gathering in the harvest of a righteous
life, and leaving only tender memories for the
gleaners who had come so late.

The old man sat in the shadow of the tree his
own hands planted; its fruit boughs shone ruddily,
and its leaves still whispered the low lullaby
that hushed him to his rest.

"How fast he sleeps! Poor father! I should
have come before and made it pleasant for
him."

As she spoke, Nan lifted up the head bent down
upon his breast, and kissed his pallid cheek.

"Oh, John, this is not sleep."

"Yes, dear, the happiest he will ever
know."

For a moment the shadows flickered over three
white faces and the silence deepened solemnly.
Then John reverently bore the pale shape in, and
Nan dropped down beside it, saying, with a rain
of grateful tears,--

"He kissed me when I went, and said a last
good-night!'"