His married Nelly is there with two blooming children.  Frank is there with his bride.  Madge—­dearest of all—­is seated beside the old man, watchful of his comfort, and assisting him as with a shadowy dignity he essays to do the honors of the board.  The children prattle merrily:  the elder ones talk of the days gone by; and the old man enters feebly, yet with floating glimpses of glee, into the cheer and the rejoicings.

——­Poor old man, he is near his tomb!  Yet his calm eye, looking upward, seems to show no fear.

* * * * *

The same old man is in his chamber; he cannot leave his chair now.  Madge is beside him; Nelly is there too with her eldest-born.  Madge has been reading to the old man:  it was a passage of promise—­of the Bible promise.

“A glorious promise!” says the old man, feebly;—­“a promise to me,—­a promise to her, poor Madge!”

——­“Is her picture there, Maggie?”

Madge brings it to him:  he turns his head; but the light is not strong.  They wheel his chair to the window.  The sun is shining brightly:  still the old man cannot see.

“It is getting dark, Maggie.”

Madge looks at Nelly—­wistfully—­sadly.

The old man murmurs something; and Madge stoops.—­“Coming,” he says,—­“coming!”

Nelly brings the little child to take his hand.  Perhaps it will revive him.  She lifts her boy to kiss his cheek.

The old man does not stir:  his eyes do not move:  they seem fixed above.  The child cries as his lips touch the cold cheek.—­It is a tender Spring flower upon the bosom of the dying WINTER!

* * * * *

——­The old man is gone:  his dream-life is ended.

THE END.