soothed by the enfolding wing of secrecy, which
seemed just then like an angel sent down for his relief. He drew out
his pocket-book to review various memoranda there as to the
arrangements he had projected and partly carried out in the prospect of
quitting Middlemarch, and considered how far he would let them stand or
recall them, now that his absence would be brief. Some economies which
he felt desirable might still find a suitable occasion in his temporary
withdrawal from management, and he hoped still that Mrs. Casaubon would
take a large share in the expenses of the Hospital. In that way the
moments passed, until a change in the stertorous breathing was marked
enough to draw his attention wholly to the bed, and forced him to think
of the departing life, which had once been subservient to his
own--which he had once been glad to find base enough for him to act on
as he would. It was his gladness then which impelled him now to be
glad that the life was at an end.

And who could say that the death of Raffles had been hastened? Who
knew what would have saved him?

Lydgate arrived at half-past ten, in time to witness the final pause of
the breath. When he entered the room Bulstrode observed a sudden
expression in his face, which was not so much surprise as a recognition
that he had not judged correctly. He stood by the bed in silence for
some time, with his eyes turned on the dying man, but with that subdued
activity of expression which showed that he was carrying on an inward
debate.

"When did this change begin?" said he, looking at Bulstrode.

"I did not watch by him last night," said Bulstrode. "I was over-worn,
and left him under Mrs. Abel's care. She said that he sank into sleep
between three and four o'clock. When I came in before eight he was
nearly in this condition."

Lydgate did not ask another question, but watched in silence until he
said, "It's all over."

This morning Lydgate was in a state of recovered hope and freedom. He
had set out on his work with all his old animation, and felt himself
strong enough to bear all the deficiencies of his married life. And he
was conscious that Bulstrode had been a benefactor to him. But he was
uneasy about this case. He had not expected it to terminate as it had
done. Yet he hardly knew how to put a question on the subject to
Bulstrode without appearing to insult him; and if he examined the
housekeeper--why, the man was dead. There seemed to be no