He will finish his work in heaven.
Strange as it may seem, the wife pined for her artist husband. We found
her in the Community trying to work, but so aged and bent that we hardly
knew her. Her large eyes had lost their peevish discontent, and a great
sadness had taken the place.
'Seems like I couldn't get on without Sol,' she said, sitting with us in
the hotel parlor after work-hours. 'I kinder miss his voice and all them
names he used to call me; he got 'em out of the Bible, so they must have
been good, you know. He always thought everything I did was right, and
he thought no end of my good looks, too; I suppose I've lost 'em all
now. He was mighty fond of me; nobody in all the world cares a straw for
me now. Even Roarer wouldn't stay with me, for all I petted him; he kep'
a going out to that meader and a lying by Sol, until, one day, we found
him there dead. He just died of sheer loneliness, I reckon. I sha'n't
have to stop long I know, because I keep a dreaming of Sol, and he
always looks at me like he did when I first knew him. He was a beautiful
boy when I first saw him on that load of wood coming into Sandy. Well,
ladies, I must go. Thank you kindly for all you've done for me. And say,
Miss Stuart, when I die you shall have that coal pictur; no one else 'ud
vally it so much.'
Three months after, while we were at the sea-shore, Ermine received a
long tin case, directed in a peculiar handwriting; it had been forwarded
from C----, and contained the sketch and a note from the Community.
'E. STUART: The woman Dorcas Bangs died this day. She will be put
away by the side of her husband, Solomon Bangs. She left the
enclosed picture, which we hereby send, and which please
acknowledge by return of mail.
'JACOB BOLL, _Trustee_.'
I unfolded the wrappings and looked at the sketch; 'It is indeed
striking,' I said. 'She must have been beautiful once, poor woman!'
'Let us hope that at least she is beautiful now, for her husband's sake
poor man!' replied Ermine.
Even then we could not give up our preferences.