it--Eh?"

She moved her head slowly, and looked at him. As those dying eyes met
his, as that face on which the light of life was darkening fast, turned
on him, even _his_ gross nature felt the shock. I saw him shrink--his
sallow cheeks whitened, he moved his chair away, and said no more.

She looked back to me again, and spoke. Her voice was still the same
soft, low voice as ever. It was fearful to hear how little it had
altered, and then to look on the changed face.

"I am dying," she said to me. "Many nights have passed since that night
when Margaret came home by herself and I felt something moving down into
my heart, when I looked at her, which I knew was death--many nights,
since I have been used to say my prayers, and think I had said them
for the last time, before I dared shut my eyes in the darkness and the
quiet. I have lived on till to-day, very weary of my life ever since
that night when Margaret came in; and yet, I could not die, because I
had an atonement to make to _you,_ and you never came to hear it and
forgive me. I was not fit for God to take me till you came--I know that,
know it to be truth from a dream."

She paused, still looking at me, but with the same deathly blank of
expression. The eye had ceased to speak already; nothing but the voice
was left.

"My husband has asked, who will believe you?" she went on; her weak
tones gathering strength with every fresh word she uttered. "I have
answered that _I_ will; for you have spoken the truth. Now, when the
light of this world is fading from my eyes; here, in this earthly home
of much sorrow and suffering, which I must soon quit--in the presence of
my husband--under the same roof with my sinful child--I bear you witness
that you have spoken the truth. I, her mother, say it of her: Margaret
Sherwin is guilty; she is no more worthy to be called your wife."

She pronounced the last words slowly, distinctly, solemnly. Till that
fearful denunciation was spoken, her husband had been looking sullenly
and suspiciously towards us, as we stood together; but while she uttered
it, his eyes fell, and he turned away his head in silence.

He never looked up, never moved, or interrupted her, as she continued,
still addressing me; but now speaking very slowly and painfully, pausing
longer and longer between every sentence.

"From this room I go to my death-bed. The last words I speak in this
world shall be to my husband, and shall change his heart towards you. I