r eyes watch for the dawn."

The priest frowned. "Surely the time has come when you should quit
your hold on earthly things," he said quietly. "What matters the dawn!
soon you will lose yourself in an everlasting sleep, and the dawn for
you will be eternity. Take this crucifix, and pray with me."

The dying man pushed it away with a gesture almost contemptuous.

"Is there no light on the sea yet, Gomez?" he asked anxiously.

Gomez leant forward till his face touched the window pane. He strained
his eyes till they ached; but the darkness was impenetrable. Yet
stay,--what was that? A feeble yellow light was glimmering far away
in the heart of that great gulf of darkness. He held his breath, and
watched it steadily. Then he turned round.

"There is a light in the far distance, sir," he said. "I cannot tell
what it may be, but there is a light."

A wave of excitement passed over the strong, wasted features of the
man upon the bed. He half raised himself, and his voice was almost
firm.

"Push my bed to the window," he ordered.

The two men, priest and servant, bent all their strength to the task,
and inch by inch they moved the great, creaking structure. When at
last they had succeeded, and paused to take breath, the light in the
distance had become stronger and more apparent. Together the three men
watched it grow; master and servant, with breathless eagerness, the
priest with a show of displeasure in his severe face. Suddenly Gomez
gave a little cry.

"The dawn!" he exclaimed, pointing to the north of the light. "Morning
is breaking."

Sure enough, a grey, pallid light was stealing down upon the water.
The darkness was becoming a chaos of grey and black; of towering seas
and low-lying clouds, with cold white streaks of light falling through
them, and piercing the curtains of night. There was no vestige of
colouring--nothing but cold grey and slate white. Yet the dawn moved
on, and through it the yellow light in the distance gleamed larger and
larger.

"Hold me up," ordered the man on the bed. "Prop me up with pillows!"

They did as he bade them, and for the first time his face was fully
revealed in the straggling twilight. A flowing grey beard, still
plentifully streaked with black, rested upon his chest; and the eyes,
steadily fixed upon the window pane, were dark and undimmed. A long
illness had wasted his fine features, but had detracted nothing from
their strength and regularity of outline. His lips were