you in heaven,—if there is a God and a heaven," he added under his breath, unable, even in that trying hour, to lay aside his doubts.
"God is just, and He will give you the benefit of every honest doubt, John."
"But He ought to let me keep you, darling; I need you, oh, I need you!"
"All is well, my husband. I am safe, and so are you, in the Everlasting Arms. Call the children; I must be going. Don't you hear the angels sing?"
The children were aroused, but she had relapsed into unconsciousness, and it was fully an hour before her reason again returned.
"Mother," she said once, while her mind was wandering, "did you get my deed? Are you snugly settled in the little house? I tried very hard to provide for your and father's welfare in your last days, and—" Her concluding words were inaudible.
"Yes, darling, your parents are provided for; there is no doubt about it," cried her husband, as she awoke again to semi-consciousness. And if ever a man experienced a thrill of supreme satisfaction in the midst of a grave sorrow, that man was Captain John Ranger, of the overland wagon train.
"Mary!"
It was her next word of consciousness.
"Come close, dear; and Jean, and Marjorie, and Harry. The light has faded, and I cannot see you, darlings. But be good. Obey your father. Take good care of Bobbie, Sadie, and Baby Annie. God bless—" The sentence was not finished.
There was another prolonged convulsion. Her husband released her hand and closed her eyes, believing all was over. But while they all waited, silent and awestricken, as if expecting a resolute move from some one, she opened her eyes again and whispered, "John!"
"Yes, Annie. John is here."
