! And so, for the time being, in utter fatigue of
both body and mind, he put away all thought, all care for the future,
and resigned himself to the circumstances by which he was now
surrounded. Undressing as quickly as he could in his weak and trembling
condition, he got into the bed so comfortably prepared for him, and lay
down in utter lassitude, thankful for rest. After he had lain so for a
few minutes he called:

"Mary Deane!"

She came at once, and looked in, smiling.

"All cosy and comfortable?" she queried--"That's right!" Then entering
the room, she showed him the very vest, the possible fate of which he
had been considering.

"This is quite dry now,"--she said--"I've been thinking that perhaps as
there are letters and papers inside, you'd like to have it near you,--so
I'm just going to put it in here--see?" And she opened a small cupboard
in the wall close to the bed--"There! Now I'll lock it up"--and she
suited the action to the word--"Where shall I put the key?"

"Please keep it for me yourself!" he answered, earnestly,--"It will be
safest with you!"

"Well, perhaps it will,"--she agreed. "Anyhow no one can get at your
letters without _my_ consent! Now, are you quite easy?"

And, as she spoke, she came and smoothed the bedclothes over him, and
patted one of his thin, worn hands which lay, almost unconsciously to
himself, outside the quilt.

"Quite!" he said, faintly, "God bless you!"

"And you too!" she responded--"Good-night--David!"

"Good-night--Mary!"

She went away with a light step, softly closing the door behind her.
Returning to the kitchen she took up the little dog Charlie in her arms,
and nestled him against her bosom, where he was very well content to be,
and stood for a moment looking meditatively into the fire.

"Poor old man!" she murmured--"I'm so glad I found him before it was too
late! He would have died out there on the hills, I'm sure! He's very
ill--and so worn out and feeble!"

Involuntarily her glance wandered to a framed photograph which stood on
the mantelshelf, showing the likeness of a white-haired man standing
among a group of full-flowering roses, with a smile upon his wrinkled
face,--a smile expressing the quaintest and most complete satisfaction,
as though he sought to illustrate the fact that though he was old, he
was still a part of the youthful blossoming of the earth in summer-time.

"What would you have done, father dear, if you had been here
to-night?"--s