I spoke to him, and shrank
instinctively from his face as he turned it towards me. It was swollen
and disfigured with weeping. He had bruised it, too, in falling. He rose,
trembling, and walked with me. For my own part, the emotional had given
place to feelings of a more sustained and ordinary nature.
I strove to impress upon Harvey's mind the beautiful and poetic manner in
which his father had been released from his sufferings.
I reminded him of the shortness of life, "even from your point of view,
Harvey;" and the necessity there was always, for not allowing ourselves
to be overcome by our griefs or passions, or diverted from the supreme
satisfaction of performing our appointed tasks, etc.
And Harvey listened patiently throughout, and said "good night," with a
brave attempt at a smile, and a sob still choking in his throat.
I turned an instant, to look at him as he walked away. He wore,
generally, a coat of ministerial form and complexion; this, taken in
connection with his round, laughing face, his boyish figure, and
propensity for playing tricks, had often made me smile, hitherto. But,
now, there was something in the attitude of those long, black tails that
brought the tears to my eyes.
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