the board, and she put the decanter with the amber wine close
to the old man. He ate and drank. He said the wine was good, and he
helped himself twice to the sparkling contents of the decanter. "I feel
in spirits to-night, Nina," he said, looking at his grandchild.

"Have a little more wine, Grand-dad," she said, in retort.

In spite of all her efforts, her voice had an anxious ring in it as she
spoke. He looked at her keenly. He was as suspicious as man could be. He
half-stretched out his hand to seize the decanter, then with a sly smile
he replaced the stopper in the neck of the bottle.

"No, no, witch," he said. "This wine is rare and precious. It raises the
spirit and warms the heart. I have not much more wine from so rare a
vintage, and I'll keep what's in the bottle for another night, when you,
pretty Nina, are far away, and the spirits of the old man fail him."

"Do," she said. "Keep the precious wine, you don't need it to-night."

Then she handed him his pipe, and after a time he became drowsy and went
to bed.

Hart's bedroom was a small attic inside the larger one. He shut the
door, looked round for the key, for he generally locked himself in,
could not find it, and then, being very drowsy, undressed and went to
bed.

Nina was to sleep on the sofa in the sitting-room. She lay down, took a
novel out of her pocket, and tried to read. Her heart was beating hard,
and that burning fever of unrest and longing which was consuming her
very life, kept coursing madly through her veins.

"The fever is my wine," she muttered. "At first it supplies false
strength, false cheer, false hope. Afterwards--afterwards--" a queer
look came into her strange face--"I too, shall rest and sleep."

Profound stillness reigned in the next room. Nina softly rose, and going
to the sideboard took out the decanter of wine, opened a window, and
emptied it into the area below. She washed the decanter afterwards and
then put it back into the sideboard.

There was not a sound in the inner room. Candle in hand, she opened the
door and went in. She put the candle on the mantelpiece, and then going
to the bed, bent over it and looked at the sleeper.

"Poor Grand-dad!" said the girl. She stooped and kissed the old man's
forehead. "You have been good to me after your lights--it was not your
fault that those lights were dim. Had you been an educated man,
Grand-dad, you'd have educated me; and had you been a good man, you'd
have taught me go