f us,' said Johnnie, wistfully, as if
striving to understand, as he felt the pressure redoubled on hand and
head, as if to burn in what was uttered with such difficulty and danger.

'Tell your grandfather I trust you all to him. He must forgive. Say so
to him. You'll be a better son to him than I. When you know all, don't
remember it against me.'

He could say no more, it had brought on a fit of coughing and
breathlessness, through which he scarcely struggled. Silence was more
than ever enforced; but throughout the day the oppression was on the
increase, especially towards the evening, when he became excited by
the expectation of his father's arrival. He sat, pillowed high up, each
respiration an effort that spread a burning crimson over his face, while
eye and ear were nervously alert.

'Arthur is very ill, and begs to see you,' was the telegraphic message
that filled the cottage at Brogden with consternation. Lady Martindale
was too unwell to leave home, but Theodora was thankful to her father
for deciding that her presence was necessary for Violet's sake; indeed,
as they travelled in doubt and suspense, and she was continually
reminded of that hurried journey when her unchastened temper had been
the torment of herself and of her brother, she felt it an undeserved
privilege to be allowed to go to him at all. Instead of schemes of being
important, there was a crashing sense of an impending blow; she hardly
had the power to think or speculate in what form, or how heavily it
might fall. She had only room for anxiety to get forward.

They arrived; she hurried up the stairs, only catching James's words,
declaring his master no better.

She saw in the twilight a slight bending form, coming down, holding by
the balusters. Violet was in her arms, clasping her with a trembling,
almost convulsive tightness, without speaking.

'O, Violet, what is it? Is he so very ill?'

Lord Martindale hastened up at the same moment, and Violet recovering,
in a few words, spoken very low, but clearly, told of his condition,
adding, 'He has been watching for you all this time, he heard you come,
and wants you directly, but don't let him speak.'

She hung on Theodora's arm, and guided them up, as if hardly able to
stand. She opened the outer room door, and there (while the nurse had
taken her place) sat Johnnie on the rug, with the baby lying across his
lap, and his arms clasped tenderly round it. It was restless, and he
looked up to his