d seemed waiting for his father to go
with him. Platt had sunk very rapidly, and this day had made a great
change. Margaret had taken the moaning and restless child on her lap,
for the ease of change of posture: and she was now shading from his eyes
with her shawl, the last level rays of the sun which shone in upon her
from the window. She was unwilling to change her seat, for it seemed as
if the slightest movement would quench the lingering life of the child:
and there was no one to draw the window-curtain, the old woman having
gone to buy food in the village. Mrs Platt slept almost all the day
and night through, and she was asleep now: so Margaret sat quite still,
holding up her shawl before the pallid face which looked already dead.
Nothing broke the silence but the twitter of the young birds in the
thatch, and the mutterings of the sick man, whom Margaret imagined to be
somewhat disturbed by the unusual light that was in the room. It had
not been the custom of the sun to shine into any houses of late; and the
place full of yellow light, did not look like itself. She knew that in
a few minutes the sun would have set; and she hoped that then poor Platt
would be still. Meantime she appeared to take no notice, but sat with
her eyes fixed on the boy's face, marking that each sigh was fainter
than the last. At length a louder sound than she had yet heard from the
sick man, made her look towards him; and the instant throb of her heart
seemed to be felt by the child, for he moved his head slightly. Platt
was trying to support himself upon his elbow, while in the other shaking
hand, he held towards her her turquoise ring. She remembered her
charge, and did not spring to seize it; but there was something in her
countenance that strongly excited the sick man. He struggled to rise
from his bed, and his face was fierce. Margaret spoke gently--as calmly
as she could--told him she would come presently--that there was no
hurry, and urged him to lie down till she could put the child off her
lap; but her voice failed her, in spite of herself; for now, at last,
she recognised in Platt the tall woman. This was the look which had
perplexed her more than once.

"Patience! a little further patience!" she said to herself, as she saw
the ring still trembling in the sick man's hand, and felt one more sigh
from the little fellow on her lap. No more patience was needed. This
was the boy's last breath. His head fell back, and the