as he sat beside her holding her hands, she
noticed that he looked pale and haggard.

'Has he had some breakfast, Paul? Oh, poor Eustace, after that long
journey! Nurse, let him have my cup, there is some tea left; let me see
you drink it, dear; it's so pleasant just to look after you once more.'

He drank it mechanically, she watching him with her loving eyes, while
she took one hand from him and slipped it into that of her husband as he
sat beside her on the bed. Her touch seemed to have meaning in it, for
Paul rose presently and went to the far end of the large room; the nurse
carried away the tea-things, and the brother and sister were practically
alone.

'Dear Eustace,' she began, after a few pathetic moments of silence, in
which look and gesture took the place of speech, 'I have so longed to see
you. It seemed to me in that awful pain that I must die before I could
gather my thoughts together once more, before I could get free enough
from my own wretched self to say to my two dear ones all I wished to say.
But now it is all gone, and I am so thankful for this moment of peace.
I made Dr. de Chavannes tell me the whole truth. Paul and I have always
promised one another that there should never be any concealment between
us when either of us came to die, and I think I shall have a few hours
more with you.'

She was silent a little; the voice had all its usual intonations, but it
was low and weak, and it was necessary for her from time to time to
gather such strength as might enable her to maintain the calm of her
manner. Eustace, in bewildered misery, had hidden his face upon her
hands, which were clasped in his, and every now and then she felt the
pressure of his lips upon her fingers.

'There are many things I want to say to you,' she went on. 'I will try to
remember them in order. Will you stay with Paul a few days--after--? will
you always remember to be good to him? I know you will. My poor Paul, oh
if I had but given you a child!'

The passion of her low cry thrilled Eustace's heart. He looked up and saw
on her face the expression of the hidden yearning of a lifetime. It
struck him as something awful and sacred; he could not answer it except
by look and touch, and presently she went on after another pause:

'His sister will come to him very likely--his widowed sister. She has a
girl he is fond of. After a while he will take pleasure in her.--Then I
have thought so much of you and of the future. So often l