his head round
slowly on the back of his chair. "I knew she would be good to me to
the last." And he laid his withered hand on the arm of his chair, so
that the woman whose presence gratified him might take it within hers
and comfort him.

"Of course I have come," said Madame Goesler, standing close by him
and putting her left arm very lightly on his shoulder. It was all
that she could do for him, but it was in order that she might do this
that she had been summoned from London to his side. He was wan and
worn and pale,--a man evidently dying, the oil of whose lamp was all
burned out; but still as he turned his eyes up to the woman's face
there was a remnant of that look of graceful faineant nobility which
had always distinguished him. He had never done any good, but he
had always carried himself like a duke, and like a duke he carried
himself to the end.

"He is decidedly better than he was this morning," said Lady
Glencora.

"It is pretty nearly all over, my dear. Sit down, Marie. Did they
give you anything after your journey?"

"I could not wait, Duke."

"I'll get her some tea," said Lady Glencora. "Yes, I will. I'll do it
myself. I know he wants to say a word to you alone." This she added
in a whisper.

But sick people hear everything, and the Duke did hear the whisper.
"Yes, my dear;--she is quite right. I am glad to have you for a
minute alone. Do you love me, Marie?"

It was a foolish question to be asked by a dying old man of a young
woman who was in no way connected with him, and whom he had never
seen till some three or four years since. But it was asked with
feverish anxiety, and it required an answer. "You know I love you,
Duke. Why else should I be here?"

"It is a pity you did not take the coronet when I offered it you."

"Nay, Duke, it was no pity. Had I done so, you could not have had us
both."

"I should have wanted only you."

"And I should have stood aloof,--in despair to think that I was
separating you from those with whom your Grace is bound up so
closely. We have ever been dear friends since that."

"Yes;--we have been dear friends. But--" Then he closed his eyes, and
put his long thin fingers across his face, and lay back awhile in
silence, still holding her by the other hand. "Kiss me, Marie," he
said at last; and she stooped over him and kissed his forehead. "I
would do it now if I thought it would serve you." She only shook her
head and pressed his hand closely. "I would; I w