d kissed her hand.

'And you kept the truth from me last night, in kindness.'

She checked herself, knowing that agitation must be harmful to him. She
had hoped to conceal the child's death, but the effort was too much for
her overstrung nerves. And indeed it was only possible for her to remain
an hour or two by this sick-bed, for she was exhausted by her night
of watching, and the sudden agony with which it had concluded. Shortly
after Amy's departure, a professional nurse came to attend upon what the
doctor had privately characterised as a very grave case.

By the evening its gravity was in no respect diminished. The sufferer
had ceased to cough and to make restless movements, and had become
lethargic; later, he spoke deliriously, or rather muttered, for his
words were seldom intelligible. Amy had returned to the room at four
o'clock, and remained till far into the night; she was physically
exhausted, and could do little but sit in a chair by the bedside
and shed silent tears, or gaze at vacancy in the woe of her sudden
desolation. Telegrams had been exchanged with her mother, who was to
arrive in Brighton to-morrow morning; the child's funeral would probably
be on the third day from this.

When she rose to go away for the night, leaving the nurse in attendance,
Reardon seemed to lie in a state of unconsciousness, but just as she was
turning from the bed, he opened his eyes and pronounced her name.

'I am here, Edwin,' she answered, bending over him.

'Will you let Biffen know?' he said in low but very clear tones.

'That you are ill dear? I will write at once, or telegraph, if you like.
What is his address?'

He had closed his eyes again, and there came no reply. Amy repeated her
question twice; she was turning from him in hopelessness when his voice
became audible.

'I can't remember his new address. I know it, but I can't remember.'

She had to leave him thus.

The next day his breathing was so harassed that he had to be raised
against pillows. But throughout the hours of daylight his mind was
clear, and from time to time he whispered words of tenderness in reply
to Amy's look. He never willingly relinquished her hand, and repeatedly
he pressed it against his cheek or lips. Vainly he still endeavoured to
recall his friend's address.

'Couldn't Mr Carter discover it for you?' Amy asked.

'Perhaps. You might try.'

She would have suggested applying to Jasper Milvain, but that name must
not be mention