o awaken her, for she
opened her eyes, and for a moment there was a tremor on her lips.

"'Meurig,' she said, and she put out her hand, which I took in mine.
Even while I held her hand I noticed on her bed a bunch of sweet
violets which I had seen Lewis gather in the morning.--'Meurig, why
have you been cold to me?' she asked, while her hand still lay in mine.
'If I have ever done anything to displease you, will you not forgive
me, and kiss your little child?' and she looked down at your little
head lying on her arm beside her. Oh, Caradoc, God alone knows the
tumult of feelings which overwhelmed me. I cannot describe them! I
stooped and kissed your little black head, and more, I stooped and
kissed her pale forehead.

"'I forgive you,' I said.

"'Is that all?' she said.

"And as I hesitated, the old haughty flush rose to her forehead, and
turning her head on her pillow, she said, 'I am tired now, and want to
sleep.'

"So I turned away and closed the door gently, and I never saw her alive
again, for that night she died suddenly. Swiftly the Angel of Death
came, _at her call_. I believe it, Caradoc, for Dr. Hughes who was
sent for hurriedly, declared he knew of no reason why she should not
have lived.

"'I think she would have recovered, Wynne,' he said, 'had she wished
to; but where there is no wish to live sometimes the powers of life
fail, and the patient dies. Why she did not wish to live _I_ do not
know--perhaps _you_ do,' and my old friend turned from me with a
coldness in his manner, which has remained there ever since."

The Vicar sank into his chair again, as if the memory of his early
trials had fatigued him, and Cardo, rising and approaching him, drew
his hand gently over his black hair besprinkled with white. His son's
tenderness seemed to reach the old man's heart.

Burying his face in his hands he gulped down a sob before he continued:

"Wait a minute, Cardo, you will not pity me when you have heard all my
story. With the earliest dawn I rushed out of the house, which seemed
to stifle me. I longed for the cool morning breezes, and God forgive
me, if I thought too with longing of the cool sandy reaches that lay
under the rippling waters of the bay! On the brow of the hill I met
Essec Powell, who was out early to see a sick cow, and there, while my
heart was sore to agony, and my brain was tortured to distraction, that
man reproached me and insolently dared to call me to account for 'my
i