d wait;
and this consciousness of a tacitly expected end had grown with the
years--with the growth of his mind and body. It was not that he was
hard-natured. The regularity with which he despatched his yearly money
to his mother--reserving the merest fraction for himself--precluded that
idea. But he was young and human, and he was youthfully and humanly
greedy to possess the good things of life for himself and for the one
being he passionately loved. It would, indeed, have been an enthusiast
in virtue who could have blamed him for counting upon dead men's shoes.

And now the shoes were all but empty! He stood watching his uncle die!

Having stayed almost motionless for several minutes, he glanced at the
clock; then moved to the bed, taking a bottle and a medicine spoon from
the dressing-table as he passed.

"Time for your medicine, uncle!" he said, in his quiet, level voice.

But the sick man did not seem to hear.

In a slightly louder tone John repeated his remark. This time the vacant
expression faded slowly from the large, pale eyes, and Andrew Henderson
moved his head weakly.

Seeing the indication of consciousness, John carefully measured out a
dose of medicine, and, stooping over the pillows, passed one arm under
his uncle's neck.

Andrew Henderson submitted without objection, but as his head was raised
and the medicine held to his lips, he seemed suddenly to realize the
position, to comprehend that it was his nephew who leaned over him. With
a spasmodic movement he turned towards John, his lips twitching with
some inward and newly aroused excitement.

"The Book, John!" he said, sharply--"the Book!"

John remained quite composed. With a steady hand he balanced the spoon
of medicine that he still held.

"Your medicine first, uncle," he said, quietly. "We'll talk about the
Book after."

But the old man's calm had been disturbed. With unexpected strength he
raised one thin hand and pushed the spoon aside, spilling the contents
on the bed.

"How can I leave it?" he exclaimed. "How can I go and leave the Book
unguarded?" Again his lips twitched and a feverish brightness flickered
in his eyes as they searched his nephew's face.

"When I go, John," he added, excitedly, "the Book may be in your keeping
for hours--perhaps for a whole night. I know the Arch-Councillor will
answer my summons immediately; but it is possible he may be delayed. It
may be the ordination of the Unknown that I should Pass before he