hough I was contagion proof, yet harm might be laid up
for others, and only what was absolutely necessary must be saved.

First of all, indeed, lay in their crumpled paper poor Dora's fatal
gifts, treasured, no doubt, as probably her last; and there, in a deep
leathern pocket, was another little parcel with Viola's crystal cross,
which her mother had made her return. She might have that now, it
would bear disinfecting; but the Irish heath-bells that told of autumn
days at Killey Marey must go, and that brief note to me that had been
treasured up--yes, and the quaint old housewife, with D. L. (his aunt's
maiden initials), whence his needles and thread used to come for his
mending work. An old, worn pencil-case kept for his mother's sake--for
Alice was on the seal--was the only thing I could rescue; but next
there came an envelope with "My will" scrawled on it. Mr. Yolland
thought I ought to open it, to see who had authority to act, and it
proved that we alone had, for he was made executor, with L1,000. A
favourite rifle was bequeathed to Eustace, an annuity of L50 to Smith,
and all the rest of the property was to be shared between Dora and me.
It was in the fewest words, not at all in form, but all right, and
fully witnessed. It was in the dear handwriting, and was dated on the
sad lonely Saturday when he felt himself sickening. The other things
were accounts and all my letters, most of which could follow the fate
of all that he had touched in those last days. However, the visit was
a comfort to me. George Yolland answered my questions, and told me much
more than poor Dermot could do in his stupefaction from grief, fatigue,
and illness, even if I then could have understood.

He told me of the grief shown by all Mycening and Arghouse, and of the
sobbing and weeping of mothers and children, who went in a broken
pilgrimage on Sunday afternoon to the grave at Arghouse, of the throngs
at the church and the hush, like a sob held back, when the text was
given out: "Thanks be to Him who giveth us the victory through Jesus
Christ our Lord."

Yet on the Saturday evening there was something more noted still. The
men stood about when they had come up for their wages to the office,
where, but a week before, Harold had paid them, with a sore struggle to
see and to count aright, as some even then had observed; and at last
their spokesman had explained their great desire to do something
themselves in memory of "the best friend