Harold "went home," early in that month, dying as calmly and quietly as
"fades a summer cloud away," or "sinks the gale when storms are o'er."
He was buried with military honors, and the friends returned to the house,
sorely to miss, indeed, the wasted form, and wan, yet patient, cheerful
face, and the loved voice, ever ready with words of consolation and hope;
but while weeping over their own present bereavement, rejoicing in his joy
and the assurance of a blessed reunion in a better land, when they, too,
should be able to say, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my
course: I have kept the faith."
It was a melancholy satisfaction to Rose that she had been with him almost
constantly during the last three months of his life; her husband had not
hurried her; but now both they, and Mr. Travilla and Elsie, felt that the
time had come when they should hasten their return to their own homes.
They set out the next week; not a gay party, but filled with a subdued,
quiet cheerfulness. Some of their dear ones, but lately journeying with
them towards the Celestial City, had reached the gates and entered in; but
they were following after, and would overtake them at length; and, though
the way might be at times rough and stony to their weary feet, the path
compassed by foes both wily and strong, yet there was with them One
mightier than all the hosts of hell, and who had promised never to leave
nor forsake.
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