m off. He hesitated a
moment, and then advanced. She opened the door rapidly, and went in. He
heard her lock it. He stood looking at it stupidly for some time, and
then slowly turned round and walked down the steps.

The next morning Lizzie arose with the early dawn, and came down stairs.
She went into the room where Jack lay, and gently opened the door. Miss
Cooper was dozing in her chair. Lizzie crossed the threshold, and stole
up to the bed. Poor Ford lay peacefully sleeping. There was his old
face, after all,--his strong, honest features refined, but not weakened,
by pain. Lizzie softly drew up a low chair, and sat down beside him. She
gazed into his face,--the dear and honored face into which she had so
often gazed in health. It was strangely handsomer: body stood for less.
It seemed to Lizzie, that, as the fabric of her lover's soul was more
clearly revealed,--the veil of the temple rent wellnigh in twain,--she
could read the justification of all her old worship. One of Jack's
hands lay outside the sheets,--those strong, supple fingers, once so
cunning in workmanship, so frank in friendship, now thinner and whiter
than her own. After looking at it for some time, Lizzie gently grasped
it. Jack slowly opened his eyes. Lizzie's heart began to throb; it was
as if the stillness of the sanctuary had given a sign. At first there
was no recognition in the young man's gaze. Then the dull pupils began
visibly to brighten. There came to his lips the commencement of that
strange moribund smile which seems so ineffably satirical of the things
of this world. O imposing spectacle of death! O blessed soul, marked for
promotion! What earthly favor is like thine? Lizzie sank down on her
knees, and, still clasping John's hand, bent closer over him.

"Jack,--dear, dear Jack," she whispered, "do you know me?"

The smile grew more intense. The poor fellow drew out his other hand,
and slowly, feebly placed it on Lizzie's head, stroking down her hair
with his fingers.

"Yes, yes," she murmured; "you know me, don't you? I am Lizzie, Jack.
Don't you remember Lizzie?"

Ford moved his lips inaudibly, and went on patting her head.

"This is home, you know," said Lizzie; "this is Glenham. You haven't
forgotten Glenham? You are with your mother and me and your friends.
Dear, darling Jack!"

Still he went on, stroking her head; and his feeble lips tried to emit
some sound. Lizzie laid her head down on the pillow beside his own, and
still