The silence, broken as it was only by the crackle of the fire, had
begun to grow oppressive, when suddenly it was broken by a sound of
singing, low, quivering, almost indistinct:--
"For the end--of my--journey--I see--
Many dear to my heart--over there
Are watching--and waiting for me.
Over--there, over--there--
I'll soon be--at--home--"
Tom Smith tried to draw away his hand, but his wife's hand clung to
it, her voice died away. "Kiss me--Tom, won't you?" she gasped.
He stooped and kissed her. She lifted her hand to touch his cheek,
but it fell back helpless. "Hark," she gasped--"the knocking! I--am
coming--" then with one long deep sigh, her voice was still for ever.
A few moments later, Tom Smith stumbled down the stairs, and out into
the darkness and away, never to be seen by Huldah again. She knew
and realised nothing then, but that her Aunt Emma was dead, that all
her dreams had ended, all her plans for the future were fruitless,
that their living together was ended, her home broken up once more.
"She's had such a hard life!" she sobbed. "And I thought I was going
to make her so happy when she got about a bit again."
"But she never would have got about again, dear. She could never
have got beyond these rooms, and I feel sure she would always have
worried about her husband.
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