knowing you. I will die in
peace because I know you will prove true, and," after a pause, "because
I know God will receive a sinful, broken man like me. You promise me
this, Mr. Macgregor?" The old man in his eagerness raised himself upon
his elbow and stretched out his hand to Shock.

"Once more," said Shock, in a broken voice, "I promise you, Mr.
Mowbray. I will do my best to carry out what you desire, and so may God
help me!"

The old man sank quietly back on his couch. A smile spread over his
face as he lay with closed eyes, and he breathed, "Thank God! I can
trust you as if you were my son."

"Hark!" he said a moment afterwards in an anxious whisper. "There is
someone near the tent." The doctor hurried out, and found Crawley in
the neighbourhood of the tent gathering some sticks for the fire. He
hastened back.

"It is only Mr. Crawley," he said, "getting some wood for the fire."

A spasm of fear distorted the old man's face.

"Crawley!" he whispered, "I fear him. Don't let him see--or know. Now
take these things--away. I have done with them--I have done with them!
You will give my love--to my daughter," he said to Shock after some
moments of silence.

"She is here," said Shock quietly.

"Here! Now! I feared to ask. God is good. Yes, God is good."

The doctor stepped out of the tent. The old man lay with eager eyes
watching the door.

Swiftly, but with a step composed and steady, his daughter came to him.

"Father, I am here," she said, dropping on her knees beside him.

"My daughter!" he cried with a sob, while his arms held her in a close
embrace. "My daughter! my daughter! God is good to us."

For a long time they remained silent with their arms about each other.
Shock moved to the door. The girl was the first to master her emotions.

"Father," she said quietly, "the doctor tells me you are very ill."

"Yes, my daughter, very ill, but soon I shall be better. Soon quite
well."

The girl lifted up her face quickly.

"Oh, father!" she cried joyfully, "do you think--" The look on her
father's face checked her joy. She could not mistake its meaning. She
threw herself with passionate sobs on the ground beside him.

"Yes, my daughter," went on the old man in a clear, steady voice, "soon
I shall be well. My life has been for years a fevered dream, but the
dream is past. I am about to awake. Dear child, I have spoiled your
life. We have only a few precious hours left. Help me not to spoil
these for