The Baker's Tale. Thomas Hauser
possible,” Ruby, Marie, and I pledged. “And one of us will always be with him. He shall not die alone.”
Death came on a crisp autumn afternoon when the ground was coloured by fallen leaves and many more hung upon the trees in tints of red and gold.
“Come close,” Christopher said to Ruby. “I want to see your face one more time.”
“Do not leave us. Please do not leave.”
“I will be with the angels. I have had the most blissful rest today, better than sleep. And such a pleasant happy dream. I almost think that, if I could rise from this bed, I would not do so. Someday, we will meet again. I feel the truth of that so strongly that I can bear to part from you now.”
His eyes were bright, but their light was of Heaven, not earth. He moved his lips, but no sound came. Then he fell into a deep slumber from which there was no waking.
There was a burial service. Christopher was laid to rest in the churchyard near his sister’s grave. Thinking of him now, many years later, I fancy him standing before me with Ruby at his side. She is three years old. They are shivering in the cold. She is clutching his hand, and her blue eyes are raised toward his face with love and wonder.
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