nd distress of mind had abated. He felt a
lightness of spirit; an eagerness, as of one setting forth on a
promised journey, who--not unlovingly, yet with something of
haste--makes his dispositions before he starts.

"Look here, darling," he said, "you'll let the stables go on just as
usual. Chifney will take over the whole management of them. You can
trust him implicitly. And--that is you, Roger, isn't it?--you'll keep
an eye on things, won't you, so that Kitty shall have no bother? I
should like to know nothing was changed at the stables. They've been a
great hobby of mine, and if--if the baby is a boy, he may take after me
and care for them. Make him ride straight, Roger. And teach him to care
for sport for its own sake, dear old man, as a gentleman should, not
for the money that may come out of it."

He waited, struggling for breath, then his hand closed on Katherine's.

"I must go," he said. "You'll call the boy after me, Kitty, won't you?
I want there to be another Richard Calmady. My life has been very
happy, so, please God, the name will bring luck."

A spasm took him, and he tried convulsively to push off the sheet.
Katherine was down on her knees, her right arm under his head, while
with her left hand she stripped the bedclothes away from his chest and
bared his throat.

"Denny, Denny!" she cried, "come--tell me--is this death?"

And Ormiston, impelled by an impulse he could hardly have explained,
crossed the room, dragged back the heavy curtains, and flung one of the
casements wide open.

The soft light of autumn dawn flowed in through the great mullioned
window, quenching the redness of fire and candles, spreading, dim and
ghostly, over the white dress and bowed head of the woman, over the
narrow bed and the form of the maimed and dying man. The freshness of
the morning air, laden with the soothing murmur of the fir forest
swaying in the breath of a mild westerly breeze, laden too with the
moist fragrance of the moorland, of dewy grass, of withered bracken and
fallen leaves, flowed in also, cleansing the tainted atmosphere of the
room. While, from the springy turf of the green ride--which runs
eastward, parallel to the lime avenue--came the thud and suck of hoofs
and the voices of the stable boys, as they rode the long string of
dancing, snorting race-horses out to the training ground for their
morning exercise.

Richard Calmady opened his eyes wide.

"Ah, it's daylight!" he cried, in accents of jo