ne with poor papa. Let me go--now you can do without
me."

"Can I?" he asked, again grasping her hand.

She pointed to his mother and Anne; but he repeated, "You--you!"

"When you are better we will see how it is to be," she wrote.

He looked sadly wistful. "No, I can't now. Something was very
wrong; but it won't come back. By and by. If you wouldn't go--"

But his voice was now more weak and weary, tired by the effort, and
a little kneeling by him, allowing his tender touch, soothed him,
enough to say submissively, "Good-bye, then--I'll come for you"--
wherewith he faltered into slumber.

Rosamond had just seen her off in the pony carriage, and was on the
way up-stairs, when she stumbled on a little council, consisting of
Dr. Worth, Mr. Charnock, and Grindstone, all in the gallery. "A
widow in her twenty-second year. Good heavens!" was the echo she
heard; and Grindstone was crying and saying, "She did it for the
best, and she could not do it, poor lamb, not if you killed her for
it;" and Dr. Worth said, "Perhaps Lady Rosamond can. You see, Lady
Rosamond, Mrs. Grindstone, whose care I must say has been devoted,
has hitherto staved off the sad question from poor young Mrs.
Poynsett, until now it is no longer possible, and she is becoming so
excited, that--"

Cecil's bell rang sharply.

"I cannot--I cannot! In her twenty-second year!" cried her father,
wringing his hands.

Grindstone's face was all tears and contortions; and Rosamond,
recollecting her last words with poor Cecil, sprang forward, both
men opening a way for her.

Cecil was sitting up in bed, very thin, but with eager eyes and
flushed cheeks, as she held out her hands. "Rosamond! Oh! But
aren't you afraid?"

"No, indeed, I'm always in it now," said Rosamond, kissing her, and
laying her down; "it has been everywhere."

"Ah! then they sent him away--Raymond?" then clutching Rosamond's
hand, and looking at her with searching eyes, "Tell me, has his
mother any right! Would you bear it if she kept _you_ apart?"

"Ah! Cecil, it was not her doing."

"You don't mean it was his own? Papa is not afraid. You are not
afraid. If it had been he, I wouldn't have feared anything. I
would have nursed him day and night till--till I made him care for
me."

"Hush, dear Cecil," said Rosamond, with great difficulty. "I know
you would, and so would he have done for you, only the cruel fever
kept you apart."

"The fever! He had it?"

"Yes