er father, and the three
stood together around the bedside of the dying, Katy with his cold hand
in hers, and occasionally bending down to hear his whispered words of
love and deep contrition.

"You will remember me, Katy," he said, "but you cannot mourn for me
always, and some time in the future you will cease to be my widow, and,
Katy, I am willing. I wanted to tell you this so that no thought of me
should keep you from a life where you will be happier than I have made
you."

Wholly bewildered, Katy made no reply, and Wilford was silent a few
moments, in which he seemed partially asleep. Then rousing up, he said:

"You wrote me once that Genevra was not dead. Did you mean it, Katy?"

Frightened and bewildered, Katy turned appealingly to her father-in-law,
who answered for her; "She meant it--Genevra is not dead," while a
blood-red flush stained Wilford's face, and his thin fingers beat the
bedspread thoughtfully.

"I fancied once that she was here--that she was the nurse the boys
praise so much. But that was a delusion," he said, and without a thought
of the result, Katy asked, impetuously: "If she were here would you care
to see her?"

There was a startled look on Wilford's face, and he grasped Katy's hand
nervously, his frame trembling with a dread of the great shock which he
felt impending over him.

"Is she here? Was the nurse Genevra?" he asked, then as his mind went
back to the past, he answered his own question by asserting: "Marian
Hazelton is Genevra."

They did not contradict him, nor did he ask to see her. With Katy there,
he felt he had better not, but after a moment he continued: "It is all
so strange; I do not comprehend how it can be. She has been kind to me.
Tell her I thank her for it. I was unjust to her. I have much to answer
for."

Between each word he uttered now there was a gasp for breath, and Father
Cameron opened the window wide to admit the cool night air. But nothing
had power to revive him. He was going very fast, Morris said, as he took
his stand by the bedside and watched the approach of death. There were
no convulsive struggles, only heavy breathings, which grew farther and
farther apart, until at last Wilford drew Katy close to him, and winding
his arm around her neck, whispered:

"I am almost home, my darling, and all is well. Be kind to Genevra for
my sake. I loved her once, but not as I love you."

He never spoke again, and a few minutes later Morris led Katy from the