Sam’s mother bad asked the four friends to sing for her son, as they had so often sung with him. Clearly and firmly they began,—
“Lead, kindly Light, amid th’ encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on.”
But one after another the young voices broke and were hushed, until Rob was singing alone, unconscious of the people about him, only seeing the dark outline in the darkened room; forgetful of his hearers, only remembering the good friend and companion in the happy days they had passed together. Never had his voice been sweeter or clearer, until the close of the second verse. Then it was impossible for him to go on. It all seemed like some horrible nightmare, from which he must wake, to find Sam alive and well. He tried to go on with the hymn, but his voice failed utterly. For a moment there was a hush of expectation, a hush that seemed endless to the boy; and then, from behind him, in a clear, mellow tenor, low and gentle, yet so distinct that not a syllable was lost, came the words of the last verse,—
