--I would be alone with my nephew."

The doctors disappeared; the old women reluctantly followed; when,
suddenly, the little Evelyn sprang forward and threw herself on the
breast of the dying man, sobbing as if her heart would break.

"My poor child!--my sweet child--my own, own darling!" gasped out Lord
Vargrave, folding his weak arms round her; "bless you--bless you! and
God will bless you. My wife," he added, with a voice far more tender
than Lumley had ever before heard him address to Lady Vargrave, "if
these be the last words I utter to you, let them express all the
gratitude I feel for you, for duties never more piously discharged:
you did not love me, it is true; and in health and pride that knowledge
often made me unjust to you. I have been severe--you have had much to
bear--forgive me."

"Oh! do not talk thus; you have been nobler, kinder than my deserts. How
much I owe you--how little I have done in return!"

"I cannot bear this; leave me, my dear, leave me. I may live yet--I hope
I may--I do not want to die. The cup may pass from me. Go--go--and you,
my child."

"Ah, let _me_ stay."

Lord Vargrave kissed the little creature, as she clung to his neck, with
passionate affection, and then, placing her in her mother's arms, fell
back exhausted on his pillow. Lumley, with handkerchief to his eyes,
opened the door to Lady Vargrave, who sobbed bitterly, and carefully
closing it, resumed his station by his uncle.

When Lumley Ferrers left the room, his countenance was gloomy and
excited rather than sad. He hurried to the room which he usually
occupied, and remained there for some hours while his uncle slept--a
long and sound sleep. But the mother and the stepchild (now restored to
the sick-room) did not desert their watch.

It wanted about an hour to midnight, when the senior physician sought
the nephew.

"Your uncle asks for you, Mr. Ferrers; and I think it right to say that
his last moments approach. We have done all that can be done."

"Is he fully aware of his danger?"

"He is; and has spent the last two hours in prayer--it is a Christian's
death-bed, sir."

"Humph!" said Ferrers, as he followed the physician. The room was
darkened--a single lamp, carefully shaded, burned on a table, on which
lay the Book of Life in Death: and with awe and grief on their faces,
the mother and the child were kneeling beside the bed.

"Come here, Lumley," faltered forth the fast-dying man.

"There are none here bu