y hung over the prostrate form, which lay
with closed eyes, and gradually sank into the heavy lethargic sleep,
from which he knew she could never awake.

Leaving her to the care of Robert and two female servants, he went in
search of the mistress of the silent and dreary house.

Taking a lamp from the escritoire in the back parlor, he went from
room to room, finding nowhere the object he sought, and at length
became alarmed. As he stood in the front door, perplexed and
anxious, the thought presented itself that she might have gone down
to the beach. He went back to the apartment occupied by the dying
woman,--felt once more the sinking pulse, and took a last look at
the altered and almost rigid face.

"Robert, I can do her no good. Her soul will very soon be with her
God."

"Oh, sir, don't leave her! Don't give her up, while there is life in
her body!" cried the son, grasping the doctor's sleeve.

Dr. Grey put his hand on the Scotchman's shoulder, and whispered,--

"I am going to hunt for Mrs. Gerome. She is not in the house. I may be
able to render her some service, but your mother is beyond all human
aid."

"Is there any pulse?"

"It is so feeble now, I can scarcely count it."

"Please, doctor, stay here by her while she breathes. Don't desert the
dear soul. My poor mother!"

Robert lost all control of himself, and wept like a child.

Loth to forsake him in this hour of direst trial, Dr. Grey leaned
against the bed, and for some moments watched the irregular convulsive
heaving of the woman's chest.

"Oh, sir, if my mistress hadn't a heart of stone, she would have let
her die peacefully. She might at least have granted her dying
prayer."

"What was it?"

"All of yesterday afternoon she pleaded with her to be baptized. My
mother--God bless her dear soul!--my mother told her that she could
not consent to die until she saw her baptized; and, with the tears
pouring down her poor face, she begged and prayed that I might fetch
the minister from town, and that she might see the ceremony performed.
But my mistress walked up and down the floor, and said, 'Never! never!
I have done with mockeries. I have washed my hands of all that,--long,
long ago.' And now--it is too late; and my poor mother can never--God
be merciful to us! is it all over?"

Dr. Grey raised the head, but the breathing was imperceptible and,
after a little while, he softly pressed down the lids that were
partially lifted from the glazed eye