pik with-a you
first."

"Dying! Old Finlay dying?" questioned Ravenslee, rising.

"Sure! He go die-a ver' queek."

"I'll come!"

"An' I guess," said Mrs. Trapes, "yes, I opine as I'll come along wi'
ye, Mr. Geoffrey."

Old Martin Finlay lay propped up by pillows, his great, gaunt, useless
body seeming almost too large for the narrow bed wherein he lay, staring
up great-eyed at Ravenslee--live eyes in a dead face.

"It's dying I am, sorr," said he faintly, "an' it's grateful is ould
Martin for the docthers and medicine you've paid for. But it's meself
is beyand 'em all--an' it's beyand 'em I'm goin' fast. She's waitin'
for me--me little Maggie's houlding out her little hand to me--she's
waitin' for me--beyand, Holy Mary be praised! An' she's waited long
enough, sorr, my little Maggie as I loved so while the harsh words
burned upon me tongue--my little Maggie! I was bitter cruel to my little
girl, but you've been kind to me, and, sorr, I thank ye. But," continued
the dying man, slowly and feebly, "it aren't to thank yez as I wanted
ye--but to give yez something in trust for Miss Hermy--ye see, sorr, I
shant be here when she comes back to-night, I'll be with--little Maggie
when the hour strikes--my little Maggie! Norah, wife--give it to him."

Silently Mrs. Finlay opened a drawer, and turning, placed in Ravenslee's
hand a heavy gold ring curiously wrought into the form of two hands
clasping each other.

"It was my Maggie's," continued Martin, "an' I guess she valleyed
it a whole lot, sorr. I found it hid away with odds and ends as she
treasured. But she don't want it no more--she's dead, ye see, sorr--I
killed her--drowned, sorr--I drowned her. Cruel an' hard I was--shut her
out onto the streets, I did, and so--she died. But before the river
took--oh, Blessed Mary--oh, Mother O' God--pity! Before she went t'
heaven, Miss Hermy was good t' her; Miss Hermy loved her and tried t'
comfort her--but only God could do that, I reckon--so she went t' God.
But Miss Hermy was kind when I wasn't, so, sorr, it's give her that ring
ye will, plaze, an' say as poor Martin died blessing her. An' now it's
go I'll ask ye, sorr, for God's callin' me to wipe away me tears an'
sorrers and bind up me broken heart--so lave me to God and--my little
Maggie--"

Very softly Ravenslee followed Mrs. Trapes out of the room, but they had
not reached the front door when they heard a glad cry and thereafter a
woman's sudden desolate sobbing.