at the end is very near.
When the sun rises on the morrow, her spirit will have reached its last
resting-place, poor soul. You will need to exert extra care over her
to-night, Miss Bain."

Soon after he took his departure, and once more Jessie was left alone
with the girl whom Hubert Varrick had wedded, but did not love--the girl
who had blasted all the happiness this world held for her. Yet she felt
sorry from the depths of her soul that the girl's life was ebbing away
so fast.

Midnight struck, and the little hands of the cuckoo-clock on the mantel
crept slowly round to one. Still there was no change, save that the
white face on the pillow grew whiter, with a tinge of gray on it now.

The clock on the mantel seemed to tick louder and louder, and cry out
hoarsely:

"Time is fleeing fast! It will soon be too late for Gerelda to clear
Hubert Varrick and save him from a felon's death!"

Jessie Bain paced the floor up and down, in agony.

Suddenly a thought came to her--a thought so terrible that it nearly
took her breath away.

"I will try it," whispered Jessie, hoarsely.

She crept pantingly across the room to an escritoire which stood in the
corner. Raising the lid, she drew from it a sheet of paper and a pen,
and catching up a tiny ink-well, she hurried back to the bedside.
Bending with palpitating heart over the still form lying there, Jessie
Bain muttered:

"No one will ever know," taking a quick glance about the room. "Gerelda
and I are all alone together--all alone!"

Thrusting the pen in the limp fingers, Jessie Bain dipped it in the ink,
and with her own hand guided the hand of Gerelda, making her write the
following words on the white paper:

"VARRICK MANSION, _February 23d_, 1909.

"To those whom it may concern: I, Gerelda Varrick, lying on my
death-bed, and realizing that the end may come at any moment, wish
to clear from any suspicion, Hubert Varrick. I do solemnly swear
it was not he who struck the fatal blow at me which ends my life.
It was some stranger, to me unknown.

"[Signed] GERELDA VARRICK.
"Witnessed by ----."

And here Jessie took the pen from the limp fingers affixing her own
signature--"JESSIE BAIN."

The deed was done. Jessie drew a long, deep breath, ere she could reach
forth to secure the all-important paper, a great faintness seized her,
and throwing up her hands, she fell in a dead faint beside Gerelda's
bed.

Scarcely a moment had elapsed ere t