d not
be controlled. He took her drooping palm, pressed it as he might between
his bony hands, and covered it with kisses. Doctor Wilford silently
withdrew.

"Dear, good Margaret," the sick man faltered, "I shall lose you soon.
Heaven will bless you for your loving care."

"Take courage, dearest," was Margaret's reply; "all will yet be well."

"It will, beloved--but not here," he answered. "We shall meet again--be
sure of it. God is merciful, not cruel, and our happiness on earth has
been a foretaste of the diviner bliss hereafter. We are separated but for
an hour. Do not weep, my sweet one, but listen to me. It was my duty to
reward you, Margaret, for all that you have done for the infirm old man. I
have performed this duty. Every thing that I possess is yours! My will is
with my private papers in the desk. It will do you justice. Could I have
given you the wealth of India, you would have deserved it all."

Tears, tears were the heart's intense acknowledgment. What could she say
at such a time?

"I have thought fit, my Margaret, to burden you with no restrictions. I
could not be so wicked and so selfish as to wish you not to wed again"--

"Speak not of it, James--speak not of it," almost screamed the lovely wife,
intercepting the generous speaker's words. "Do not overwhelm me with my
grief."

"It is best, my Margaret, to name these things whilst power is still left
me. Understand me, dearest. I do not bid you wed again. You are free to do
it if it will make you happier."

"Never--never, dearest and best of men! I am yours in life and
death--yours for ever. Before Heaven I vow"--

Mildred touched the upraised hand, held it in his own, and in a feeble,
worn-out voice, said gravely--

"I implore you to desist--spare me the pain--make not a vow so rash. You
are young and beautiful, my Margaret--a time may come--let there be no vow.
Where is Wilford? I wish to have you both about me."

The following morning Margaret was weeping on her husband's corpse. Ten
years before, she had wept when he proposed for her, and ten years
afterwards, almost to a day, she was weeping on John Humphrys' pillow,
distressed with recollections that would not let her rest.

* * * * *

CHAPTER III

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

Doctor Chalmers was right. The discovery of the telescope was very fine in
its way; but the invention of the microscope was, after all, a much more
sensible affair. We may look