Three more years had mingled with the past, and yet Mrs. Dunmore and Jennie, who had now developed into a mature and perfect beauty, lingered in the vicinity of the Halbergs. Not that they had any idea of sundering the ties that so closely united them, or of claiming a place for the orphan in the home of her newly-found kindred, but the old man clung with such touching fondness to his beloved grandchild, and grew so frantic if she left him, even for a few days, that it seemed a sacred duty to give themselves up to his few remaining years; and as from month to month they perceived a manifest dawning of light upon his bewildered intellect, it became rather a pleasure than a sacrifice to forego all those amusements and comforts that interfered with his peculiar fancies or desires. Mrs. Halberg would remonstrate, and Ellen would sneer, as the young girl denied herself the companionship of her youthful associates in order to be with and cheer her aged relative; but Jennie would place her hand gently upon his silvery head, and say, in her quiet, subduing way, "It will not be very long, dear auntie!"

Nor was it very long, for every day the tottering knees grew more and more feeble, until at length the old seat in the garden was altogether abandoned for the pleasant room; and there, by the window, in the warm sunlight, would the shadow of a majestic being crouch, shivering through the summer days, while a soft and low voice read and chatted away the otherwise weary hours.

But the old figure stays not long in the sunlight, for the messengers have come for him, and the hour of his departure is near, and prostrate upon his bed he awaiteth the final summons. It was Jennie's sixteenth autumn, and as she sat beside her grandfather's couch with his shriveled fingers in her warm clasp, the old man turned his head upon his pillow, and, looking intently upon her, said, "My child, I have been dreaming. I have slept a long, long time; but I am wide awake now, and I know it all. It has come to me slowly and painfully, and I shall not forget it again."

"What is it, grandpa?" said Jennie; "you are weak and ill now, and must not talk, I am your little nurse you know, and Dr. Wright says 'I must keep you quite still if I would have you get well again.'"

"Isn't your name Jennie Grig? and is not that your mother?" continued her grandfather, rising upon one elbow and pointing to the portrait at the foot of the bed. "You was a young thing when she died, Jennie, and I meant to find you out and bring you home; but I could do nothing while the strange dream was upon me. It was just as well, for she brought you to me with her angel hands, and that made the dream pleasant to me;" and the old man sunk back upon his pillow. He lay quietly for some time, and Jennie thought he was sleeping, but as she motioned Simon to take her place by the bed, and tried gently to relax her hand from that of her grandfather, he tightened the pressure, and spoke again in a feeble tone. "I shall not get well again, Jennie, I'm going to your mother; but I can not die yet. Call your uncle to me, and leave us for awhile, I must make it right again." Jennie was more surprised and frightened at her grandfather's calm and rational manner than she would have been by any strange or frenzied actions; but she had heard that reason often wholly resumes its throne as the hour of dissolution approaches, and, thinking that life might be fast ebbing, she hastened to summon her uncle, who was soon in his father's presence.

His heart leaped for joy as soon as he saw that the old gentleman was sufficiently sane to alter his will, which had been made in a moment of passion, and had cut off the inheritance from his daughter; and both seemed relieved of a sore burden when the papers were re-executed and the child was made sure of her rightful portion.

Her grandfather tremulously affixed his signature as Jennie returned to him followed by her aunt and cousins.

A peaceful smile was upon the dying man's face as he looked upon the little group that surrounded him, and said, with a solemn emphasis, "My children, be kind and forgiving—forgiving." Then closing his eyes, he murmured "dear little Jennie! dear little Jennie!" and slept to awake no more to the pains and ills of life.