and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house.

As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among
the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to
and fro.

"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant who
came out to meet him.

"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is a
paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we went
for Doctor Elton at once."

It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in the
gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dear
Heaven! he could scarcely realize it.

"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously.
"Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!"

The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring to
him a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurried
along the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother's
voice calling for him.

"Where is my son?" she moaned.

He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as
Rex entered, and she held out her arms to him.

"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!"

She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had ever
seen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words.

"It may not be as bad as you think, mother," he said; "there is always
hope while there is life."

She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curious
whiteness upon it.

The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filled
the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blind
was half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A large
night-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint
glimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings,
and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray
shadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look that
comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken.

His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for many
caresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort.

"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Send
them all away--my hours are numbered--a mist rises before my face,
Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see you--I have lost my sight--my eyes
grow dim."

A cry came from Rex's lips.