A BIRTHDAY GIFT.
When Mark's little cloak was put in the earth, for a while the house
felt cold--as if the bit of Paradise had gone out. Mark's room was like
a temple forsaken of its divinity. But it was not to be drifted up with
the sand of forgetfulness! The major put in a petition that it might
continue to be called Mark's, but should be considered the major's: he
would like to put some of his things in it and occupy it when he came!
Every one was pleased with the idea. They no longer would feel so
painfully that Mark was not there when his dear majie occupied the room!
To the major it was thenceforth chamber and chapel and monument. It
should not be a tomb save as upon the fourth day the sepulchre in the
garden! he would fill it with live memories of the risen child! Very
different was his purpose from that sickly haunting of the grave in
which some loving hearts indulge! We are bound to be hopeful, nor wrong
our great-hearted father.
Mark's books and pictures remained undisturbed. The major dusted them
with his own hands. Every day he read in Mark's bible. He never took it
away with him, but always when he returned in whatever part of the bible
he might have read in the meantime, he resumed his reading where he had
left off in it, The sword the boy used so to admire for its brightness
that he had placed it unsheathed upon the wall for the firelight to play
upon it, he left there, shining still.
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