For several days Daniel suffered great pain, but with such perfect peace and joy in his heart that it seemed as if he could scarcely realize or feel his bodily anguish. Jessica was with him constantly; and when he was free from pain she read aloud to him, or talked with him of the heaven to which he was going, and which seemed to be open to his gaze already, as one catches a glimpse from afar off of some beautiful country basking in the glory of a full noontide sunshine.

The chapel people came to see him, some of them in the carriages which of old set him pondering on their riches; and they left him, marveling that they had known so little of the religiousness of the man who had ushered them to their pews Sunday after Sunday. But as yet the minister had not visited him, though he had sent him word that as soon as it was possible he would come to see him.

The last day had arrived; both Daniel and Jessica knew that it was the last day, and she had not stirred from his side since morning; and still the minister had not come—had not been able to come to the death-bed of his old friend. For they were old friends, having met many times a week for a dozen years in the same chapel; and since Jessica had drawn them closer together the learned and eloquent preacher had cared for Daniel’s illiterate soul, and the chapel-keeper had learned to pick up some crumbs of nourishment from the great feast which the minister prepared week after week for his intellectual congregation. He had not been, but Daniel was undisturbed, and so, patient and peaceful, with a smile upon his lips when he met Jessica’s wistful eyes, he waited for the last hour and the last moment to come.

Yet before it was too late, and before his eye grew dim, and his tongue numbed with the chillness of death, the minister arrived, pale in face, and bowed down with weakness, and with a trembling voice which faltered often as he spoke. They clasped one another’s hands, and looked into one another’s face with a strange recognition, as if both had seen further into the other world than they had ever done before, and then the minister sank feebly into the chair beside Daniel’s pillow.

“I will rest here, and stay with you for an hour,” he said.

“It is the last hour,” answered Daniel.

“Be it so,” replied the minister. “I too have looked death in the face.”

They were silent for a while, while the minister rallied his strength, and then he bent his head, his head only, for he was too feeble yet to kneel beside the dying man, and he poured forth a prayer to God in his inmost heart, but with hesitating lips, which no longer uttered with ready speech the thoughts which thronged to his brain. The Amen with which he ended was almost a groan.

“My power is taken from me,” he said; “the Almighty has stricken me in the pride of my heart. I shall never more speak as I used to do, of his glory and majesty, and the greatness of his salvation.”

“You can speak of his love,” murmured Daniel.

“Yes,” he answered despondently, “but only as a child speaks. I shall never stir the hearts of the congregation again. My speech will be contemptible.”

“Jessica, tell him what you and I have been talking about,” said Daniel.

Jessica lifted up her face from the pillow, and turned it towards the minister, a smile struggling through her tears; and though her voice was unsteady to begin it grew calm and clear before she had spoken many words.

“We were talking how he’d never be the chapel-keeper any more, and go up into the pulpit to carry the books before you; and then we thought it was true, maybe, what the doctor says, that you’d never be well enough again to preach in such a big chapel; and so we went on talking about the time when we shall all be in heaven. We said that perhaps God would give you more beautiful thoughts there, and grander words, and you’d still be our minister; and the angels ’ud all come thronging up in crowds all about you and us to hearken to what you’d thought about Jesus Christ and about God; and there’d be a great congregation again. Only whenever you were silent for a minute we could look up and see the Saviour himself listening to us all.”

Then the minister bowed his pale face upon his hands; but he did not answer a word. “There is one thing still I want to say,” said Daniel. “I’ve made my will, and left all I had to Jessica; but I don’t know where she’ll find a home. If you’d look out for her—”

“Jessica shall come home to me,” interrupted the minister, laying his hand upon hers and Daniel’s and clasping them both warmly.

“I’m a Christian man,” whispered Daniel. “I know that I love God, and that he has made me something like himself. There’s a verse about it in the Bible.”

“‘Beloved,’” said the minister, “‘now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.’”

There was no stammering of the minister’s speech as he pronounced these words, and his face grew bright, as did the face of the dying man. Daniel’s mind wandered a little, and he groped about, as in the dark, for the Bible, which lay upon the bed; and he murmured,

“It’s time to take up the books, for the congregation is waiting, and the minister is ready. I will take them up to heaven.”

He spoke no more; but the Bible after a while fell from his hand, and Jessica and the minister, looking upon his face, saw that in heaven he was beholding the face of the Father.

It proved true that the minister could never again preach a sermon such as in former times, when the people listened with strained attention, and he was to them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and playeth well on an instrument; but they heard his words and did them not. Yet he was a man of calmer happiness than before; and in his quiet country home, where sometimes of a Sunday he mounted the pulpit-steps of a little chapel, and taught a simple congregation simple truths, he drew nearer day by day in spirit to the great congregation who were waiting for him, and before whom his lips should never more be silenced.

Transcriber’s Note:

Spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained as they appear in the original publication, including the use of “wont” for “won’t” in “Jessica’s First Prayer”, except as follows:

Jessica’s First Prayer

• Page 17
• • ‘You make good coffee changed to
    “You make good coffee
• Page 26
• • sobs of pain and wearness changed to
    sobs of pain and weariness
• Page 27
• • through at the inside- changed to
    through at the inside.
• Page 43
• • looking round encourageingly changed to
    looking round encouragingly
• Page 54
• • CHAPTER IV. changed to
    CHAPTER VII.
• Page 70
• • often saying no more that changed to
    often saying no more than
• Page 89
• • minister and the beadle, ‘I asked changed to
    minister and the beadle, “I asked

Jessica’s Mother

• Page 21
• • it with our hearts. changed to
    it with our hearts.”
• Page 31
• • the door into a comforttable changed to
    the door into a comfortable
• Page 35
• • in some away had never looked changed to
    in some way had never looked
• Page 50
• • when she hears every, thing changed to
    when she hears every thing
• Page 53
• • He knows she is my mother. changed to
    He knows she is my mother.”
• Page 58
• • on any farther? changed to
    on any farther?”
• Page 64
• • would he have thrust her
    would He have thrust her
• Page 74
• • caried to the chapel changed to
    carried to the chapel
• Page 79
• • like some giant skeletion changed to
    like some giant skeleton
• A Contents has been added for Jessica’s Mother.