promised you not to drink any more," Brand
said.

"He had made the same promises before. He took to drink merely to
forget--to drown this thing that was working in his brain. If he had
lived, it would have been the old story over again. He would have buried
the portrait in St. James's Park, as he did before, gone back to the
gin-shop, and in course of time drank himself to death. This end is
terrible enough, but there is a touch of something fine about it--it
redeems much. What a worship the poor fellow had for Miss Lind, to be
sure; because she was kind to him when he was half mad with his wrongs.
I remember he used to go about the churches in Venice to see if any of
the saints in the pictures were like her, but none satisfied him. You
will send her a message of what he has done to repay her at last?"

"I will take it myself," said Brand, hastily. "I must go, Edwards. You
must get ---- or ---- to come to these chambers--any one you may think of.
I must go myself, and at once."

"To-night, then?"

"Yes, to-night. It is a pity I troubled Evelyn to go."

"He would stay a day, perhaps two days, in Genoa. It is just possible
you might overtake him by going straight through."

"Yes," said Brand, with a strange smile on his face, as if he were
looking at something far away, and it was scarcely to his companion that
he spoke, "I think I will go straight through. I should not like any one
but myself to take Natalie this news."

They walked back to the chambers, and Brand began to put things in order
for his going.

"It is rather a shame," he said, during this business, "for one to be
glad that this poor wretch has come to such an end; but what better
could have happened to him, as you say? You will see about a decent
funeral, Edwards; and I will leave you something to stop the mouth of
that caterwauling landlady. You can tell them at the inquest that he has
no relations in this country."

By-and-by he said,

"If there are any debts, I will pay them; and if no one has any
objection I should like to have that casket, to show to--to Miss Lind.
Did you see the carving on it?"

"I looked at it."

"He must have spent many a night working at that. Poor wretch, I wish I
had looked after him more, and done more for him. One always feels that
when people are dead, and it is too late."

"I don't see how you could have done more for him," Edwards said,
honestly enough: though indeed it was he himself who had been Kirski's