went to a whisper. She wondered at
the way the cough was sparing him.

Then she thought he was falling asleep again; but presently he spoke.
"I shall do very well now.... Nothing but a little rest ... that's
all I want now. Only there's something I wanted to say about ...
about...."

"About Sally?" Rosalind guessed quickly, and certainly.

"Ah ... about the baby. _Your_ baby, Rosey.... That man that was her
father ... he's on my mind...."

"Oh me, forget him, dear--forget him! Leave him to God!" Rosalind
repeated a phrase used twenty years ago by herself in answer to the
old soldier's first uncontrollable outburst of anger against the man
who had made her his victim. His voice rose again above a whisper as
he answered:

"I heard you say so, dear child ... then ... that time. You were
right, and I was wrong. But what I've said--many a time, God forgive
me!--that I prayed he was in hell. I would be glad now to think I
had not said it."

"Don't think of it. Oh, my dear, don't think of it! You never meant
it...."

"Ah, but I did, though; and would again, mind you, Rosey! Only--not
now! Better let him go, for Sallykin's sake.... The child's the puzzle
of it...."

Rosalind thought she saw what he was trying to say, and herself tried
to supplement it. "You mean, why isn't Sally like him?"

"Ah, to be sure! Like father like son, they say. His son's a chip of
the old block. But then--he's his mother's son, too. Two such!--and
then see what comes of 'em. Sallykin's your daughter ... Rosey's
daughter. Sallykin...." He seemed to be drowsing off from mere
weakness; but he had something to say, and his mind made for speech
and found it:

"Yes, Rosey; it's the end of the story. Soon off--I shall be! Not
very long now. Wasn't it foggy?"

"Yes, dear; it was. But it's clear now. It's snowing."

"Then you could send for Jack Roper. Old Jack! He can tell me
something I want to know.... I know he can...."

"But it's the middle of the night, dear. We can't send for him now.
Sally shall go for him again when she comes in the morning. What is
it you want to know?"

"What became of poor Algernon Palliser.... I know Old Jack knows....
Something he heard.... I forget things ... my head's not good. Ah,
Rosey darling! if I'd been there in the first of it ... I could have
got speech of him. I might have ... might have...."

As the old man's mind wandered back to the terrible time it dragged
his hearer's with it. Rosalind tried