s were running very low, and she
had not the energy to speak. Grizel fed her with sips of brandy, but
she made no attempt to call the nurse, who was sleeping in another room.
She also held the theory that a human soul should be allowed to die
after its own fashion, even if thereby life's span were shortened by a
few hours. Still on her knees she watched while the old woman dozed,
and dozed again, waking up to brief moments of consciousness, but her
mind had wandered from the present, and was back in the far away past.

"He broke my heart," she said faintly once. "It was the money he
wanted, not me; but I loved him. And there was no child--I was alone!"
Suddenly her eyes flashed. "I hope," she said clearly, "we shall never
meet! I forgive him--it's all over--but eternity is big enough...
There's room for both." ... Another time, "Remember," she gasped, "no
black for me! Don't suit you. Dismal stuff. _Let_ 'em talk!" and
again, with a reminiscent chuckle: "Rudest woman in London. That was
me, and here I lie! Well! Well! it did me one good turn. When I was
crippled they kept their distance... No fussing and sympathising.
Didn't want 'em. Only you--"

Grizel stroked her hand, and she slept again. It was an awesome thing
to watch the grey face, changing moment by moment into a mask of clay.
The hard, bitter-tongued woman had come to the end of her journey, and
was going out into the great unknown. Life had brought her perhaps the
hardest of all fates, great wealth, and little love. The girl kneeling
by her side knew that she was the only person on earth who would
honestly regret her loss, and the knowledge brought with it the first
tear.

She sent out her whole heart in a passion of love and gratitude, as if
thereby she could lighten the last struggle of life. As the shackles of
earth were loosened, the spirit so soon to be freed from the fleshly
prison must surely be sensitive to the ministrations of a kindred soul.
Grizel poured forth the wealth of her love, and even as she gazed beheld
an answering peace on the dying face. The eyes remained closed, but the
fingers stirred within her own with a caressing touch.

"Good--child," breathed the faint voice. "Good--child!"

An hour later Grizel awoke the sleeping nurse and informed her of her
patient's death some ten minutes before. The nurse rose hurriedly,
shocked and discomfited in her professional pride. Why was she not
called?

"She did not wa