but fell into deep, sorrowful thought, until
they reached the door of the room in which John Scott lay mortally
wounded.

The doctor opened the door and passed in with the duke.

It was a good-sized, square room, in which had once been placed four cots
to accommodate four old men. Now, however, all the cots had been removed
except the one on which the wounded man lay, and that had been drawn into
the middle of the chamber, so as to give the patient a free circulation
of fresh air, and to allow the approach of surgeon and attendants on
every side. The walls were white-washed, the floor sanded, the windows
shaded with blue paper hangings, and the cot-bed covered with a clean,
blue-checked spread. Four cane chairs and a small deal table completed
the furniture.

Everything was plain, clean and comfortable.

The doctor, with a deprecating gesture, signed to the duke to wait a
moment, and went up to the side of the bed, and finding his patient
awake, whispered:

"Monsieur, the friend you expected has arrived."

"You mean--the Duke of Hereward?" faintly inquired Scott.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Give me then--some cordial--to keep up my strength--for fifteen minutes
longer," sighed the dying man at intervals.

The doctor signed to Sister Francoise, who sat by the bedside, to go and
bring what was required.

The old nun went to the deal table and brought a small bottle of cognac
brandy and a slender wine glass.

The doctor filled the glass, lifted the head of the patient, and placed
the stimulant to his lips.

Scott swallowed the brandy, drew a deep breath as he sank back upon the
pillow and said:

"Now, bring the duke to my bed side, and let everyone go and leave us
together."

The doctor signed for the duke to approach, and silently presented him to
the patient.

Then he beckoned Sister Francoise to follow him, and they left the room,
closing the door behind them.

"I am sorry to see you suffering, my brother," said the duke, kindly, as
he bent over the dying man.

"Ah! you call me your brother! You acknowledge me then?" said Scott, half
in earnest, half in mockery.

"Most certainly I do acknowledge you, and most sincerely do I deplore
your misfortunes," answered the duke.

"Yet I have been a great sinner. I feel that now, as I lie upon my
death-bed," muttered Scott, in a low tone.

"I look upon you as one 'more sinned against than sinning,'" said the
duke seriously.

"Yes, that is true also," murmured