d a light in his eyes which told of peace and a perfectly
painless death.

At last the day was ended, and the shades of night crept in and around
the old gray house, while a darker shadow than any which night ever
brings was in the sick-room where Archie lay, half unconscious, and
talking, now of Daisy, now of Bessie, and now of Neil and asking if he
had come. He had not nor any answer to the telegram, and Bessie's heart
was very heavy and sad with a sense of desertion and terrible
loneliness. How could she bear to be alone with her dead father, and
only Anthony and Dorothy to counsel her? What should she do, and where
was Neil, that he made no response to tell her he was coming? She did
not consider that, even had he received the telegram, he could not
reach Stoneleigh that night.

She did not realize anything except the dread and pain which weighed her
down, as, with her father's hand in hers, she sat waiting for the end,
while the old servants stole in and out noiselessly.

Suddenly, as she waited thus, she caught the sound of a footstep
without, a quick footstep which seemed familiar to her, and with a cry
of "Neil!" on her lips, she arose swiftly, and hastened to the outer
door just as the tall form of a young man stood before the threshold.

Bessie's eyes were full of tears, and the lamp on the bracket rather
blinded than helped her, and so she could not see the stranger
distinctly; but it was Neil, of course--come in response to her summons;
and with a great glad cry she sprang toward the young man, and clinging
convulsively to him, sobbed out:

"Oh, Neil, Neil! I am so glad you have come, for father is dying, and I
am all alone. It is so dreadful, and what shall I do? _Oh, oh_, it isn't
Neil!" and she gave a little scream of terror and surprise, as, looking
up, she met Grey Jerrold's face bending over her instead of Neil's.

Grey had been to Carnarvon on the old business, and, moved by a desire
to see Bessie's blue eyes again, had come to the "George Hotel" to pass
the night, intending to call at Stoneleigh in the morning. But hearing
of Mr. McPherson's illness, he had decided to step over that night and
inquire for him, and thus it was that he found himself in a very novel
position, with Bessie sobbing in his arms, which had involuntarily
opened to receive her when she made the rush toward him.

"No, it is not Neil," he said, trying to detain her as she drew herself
from him. "It is Grey; but perhaps I c