rieved by the look of suffering, her eyes again unclosed and her
lips said, 'Failed.'

'Don't think of that! God can make failures success.'

There was a half smile, a look of peace. '_He_ makes up,' she said;
and those were the last audible words before it was over, and the
tender spirit was released from its strife, some time later, they only
knew when by the failure of the clasp on her husband's hand.

Old Miss Headworth did not understand the meaning of that sad word till
the next forenoon. Then,--as she sat in the darkened tent-room, crying
over her letters,--while the stunned and bewildered Nuttie was, under
her Aunt Jane's direction, attending to the needful arrangements, Canon
Egremont wandered in upon her in the overflow of confidence of a man
with a full heart, wanting to talk it all out, communicating the more,
because she was a discreet woman, and asked no questions. He had tried
to see his brother, but Gregorio had not admitted him. He was aware
now of the whole state of things. Dr. Hammond had told him, when first
beginning to be alarmed for his patient, that the principal cause for
anxiety was the exhaustion caused by the long strain on her spirits and
strength consequent on her efforts to wean her husband from his fatal
propensity. There had been other 'complications,' as the doctor called
them, and more immediate causes of danger, but both he and his
colleague, summoned from London, believed that she would have
surmounted them if she had had more strength to rally. But her nurses
dated the decided turn for the worse from the day when she had gazed up
into Mr. Egremont's face, and detected the look in his eyes that she
had learnt too well to understand.

She would fain have lived, and, according to her obedient nature, had
submitted to all the silence and stillness enforced on her; but she had
told Dr. Hammond that she must see her brother-in-law before she was
too far gone. And the doctor, knowing all, took care it should be
brought about.

And then she had spoken of her failure in the effort of these years.
'If I had begun better,' she said, 'it might not have been so with him.'

'My dear, indeed you have nothing to blame yourself for. You were
grievously sinned against by us all. Alwyn was no saint when he drew
you into it--and you, you have been his good angel, doing all and more
too,' said the Canon, almost breaking down.

'I tried--but if I had been a better woman--And to leave hi