hen next he spoke it was in
a quick, husky whisper: "I must--I must--I must---" There was silence;
then he added: "Give me my trousers."

Bianca placed them by his bed. The sight seemed to reassure him. He was
once more silent.

For more than an hour after this he was so absolutely still that Bianca
rose continually to look at him. Each time, his eyes, wide open, were
fixed on a little dark mark across the ceiling; his face had a look
of the most singular determination, as though his spirit were slowly,
relentlessly, regaining mastery over his fevered body. He spoke
suddenly:

"Who is there?"

"Bianca."

"Help me out of bed!"

The flush had left his face, the brilliance had faded from his eyes; he
looked just like a ghost. With a sort of terror Bianca helped him out of
bed. This weird display of mute white will-power was unearthly.

When he was dressed in his woollen gown and seated before the fire, she
gave him a cup of strong beef-tea, with brandy. He swallowed it with
great avidity.

"I should like some more of that," he said, and fell asleep.

While he was asleep Cecilia came, and the two sisters watched his
slumber, and, watching it, felt nearer to each other than they had for
many years. Before she went away Cecilia whispered--

"B. if he seems to want that little girl while he's like this, don't you
think she ought to come?"

Bianca answered: "I don't know where she is."

"I do."

"Ah!" said Bianca; "of course!" And she turned her head away.

Disconcerted by that sarcastic little speech, Cecilia was silent; then,
summoning all her courage, she said:

"Here's the address, B. I've written it down for you;" and, with puckers
of anxiety in her face, she left the room.

Bianca sat on in the old golden chair, watching the deep hollows beneath
the sleeper's temples, the puffs of breath stirring the silver round his
mouth. Her ears burned crimson. Carried out of herself by the sight of
that old form, dearer to her than she had thought, fighting its great
battle for the sake of its idea, her spirit grew all tremulous and soft
within her. With eagerness she embraced the thought of self-effacement.
It did not seem to matter whether she were first with Hilary. Her spirit
should so manifest its capacity for sacrifice that she would be first
with him through sheer nobility. At this moment she could almost have
taken that common little girl into her arms and kissed her. So would
all disquiet end! Some harm