tched
at the bed-clothes. He had lost something of that calm and effortless
serenity which seemed to have fallen upon him since the safety of the
steamer had been assured.

"The boat is quite close, Gomez! Can you not describe the stranger?"

"I can only see that he is thin, rather tall, and, I think, elderly,
sir. He is very much wrapped up, as though he were an invalid."

"Lift me up so that I can see them. Father Adrian will help you."

The priest shook his head. "The effort would probably cost you your
life," he said, "and it would be useless. Before you could see them
the boat would be round the corner."

"So near! God grant me strength! Gomez, give me a tablespoonful of the
brandy!"

Gomez moved silently to his side, and poured out the brandy.
Afterwards his master closed his eyes, and there was an intense
silence in the chamber--the deep, breathless silence of expectancy.

The monastery itself, a small and deserted one, tenanted only by a
few half-starved monks of one of the lower orders of the Church, was
wrapped in a profound gloom. There was no sound from the half-ruined
chapel or the long, empty corridors. The storm had ceased, and the
casements no longer rattled in the wind. To the man who lay there,
nursing his fast-ebbing strength, it seemed indeed like the silence
before the one last tragedy of death, looming so black and so grim
before him.

It was broken at last. Away at the end of the corridor the faint sound
of hurrying footsteps and subdued voices reached the ears of the three
watchers. They came nearer and nearer, halting at last just outside
the door. There was a knock, a quick, impetuous answer, and the
visitors entered, ushered in by the priest, who had met them on the
threshold.

Of the two men, one advanced hastily with outstretched hand and
pitying face to the bedside; the other moved only a step or two
further into the room, and stood looking intently, yet without any
salutation or form of recognition, at the dying man. The former, when
he reached the bed, sank on his knees and took the white hand which
lay upon the coverlet between his.

"Father! My father! I would have given the world to have found you
better. Tell me that it is not true what they say. You will pull round
now that I have come!"

There was no answer. The dying man did not even look into the handsome
young face so close to his. His eyes, bright and unnaturally large,
were rivetted upon the figure at the foot of