to the address that is written on them? That's all I ask of
you! Will you?"

"Of course I will!" she said, readily--"You know you've kept the key
yourself since you got well from your bad fever last year----"

"There is the key," he said, drawing it from his pocket, and holding it
up to her--"Take it now!"

"But why now----?" she began.

"Because I wish it!" he answered, with a slight touch of
obstinacy--then, smiling rather wistfully, he added, "It will comfort me
to know you have it in your own possession. And Mary--promise me that
you will let no one--not even Angus--see or touch these papers!--that
you will take the parcel just as you find it, straight to the person to
whom it is addressed, and deliver it yourself to him! I don't want you
to _swear_, but I want you to put your dear kind hand in mine, and say
'On my word of honour I will not open the packet old David has entrusted
to me. When he dies I will take it my own self to the person to whom it
is addressed, and wait till I am told that everything in it has been
received and understood.' Will you, for my comfort, say these words
after me, Mary?"

"Of course I will!"

And placing her hand in his, she repeated it slowly word for word. He
watched her closely as she spoke, her eyes gazing candidly into his own.
Then he heaved a deep sigh.

"Thank you, my dear! That will do. God bless you! And now to bed!"

He rose somewhat unsteadily, and she saw he was very weak.

"Don't you feel so well, David?" she asked, anxiously. "Would you like
me to sit up with you?"

"No, no, my dear, no! All I want is a good sleep--a good long sleep. I'm
only tired."

She saw him into his room, and, according to her usual custom, put a
handbell on the small table which was at the side of his bed. Charlie,
trotting at her heels, suddenly began to whimper. She stooped and picked
the little creature up in her arms.

"Mind you ring if you want me," she said to Helmsley then,--"I'm just
above you, and I can hear the least sound."

He looked at her earnestly. His eyes were almost young in their
brightness.

"God bless you, Mary!" he said--"You've been a good angel to me! I never
quite believed in Heaven, but looking at you I know there is such a
place--the place where you were born!"

She smiled--but her eyes were soft with unshed tears.

"You think too well of me, David," she said. "I'm not an angel--I wish I
were! I'm only a very poor, ordinary sort of woman."

"Are yo