d comfort her!

'We have a very fast horse, and a capital driver. Yes, we shall be there
soon now. Your journey must have tired you, dear. I wish someone could
have come with you.'

'Father wanted to do so, but I told him I would rather be alone. Never
mind about me, Michael; what does it matter if I am tired or not? If I
could only be with him! but the time is passing so!' Then, as she saw
the pained look on Michael's face, she said in a low voice: 'Don't be
too sorry for me; it is hard--very hard--but we must only think of him;'
and then she did not speak again until the hansom stopped.

Mollie was on the watch, for the door opened before they had alighted;
but as she flung her arms round Audrey with a tearful welcome, the
latter gently disengaged herself.

'Do not keep me, dear Mollie; let me go to him.'

'Yes, you shall go to him, dear Miss Ross; he is a little better just
now; at least, he does not suffer so much. I wish mamma could speak to
him, but she only sits there sighing as though her heart would break,
and it must be so sad for Cyril to hear it. That is the door; you can go
in;' and Audrey needed no more.

A tall, gray-haired man stood aside to let her pass, but it may be
doubted whether she even saw him, any more than she noticed that rigid
figure at the foot of the bed. Audrey saw nothing but that death-like
face on the pillow, and the glad light in Cyril's eyes, as she went
straight to him, and kneeling down beside him, kissed his lips.

'My poor Cyril! My poor, dear Cyril!' she said in a voice that was
heavenly in its sweetness to him.

'No, not poor now,' he whispered, as he moved his head until it rested
on her breast. 'My darling, it is worth even this to see you again. If
you could only know what these five months have been to me!'

He spoke in a voice so low and feeble that only she could hear him. Mrs.
Blake did not move as Audrey entered; her eyes were fixed on her boy's
face. They seemed the only living things about her. From time to time,
even in his awful suffering, he had struggled to say a word to her, but
she had scarcely answered him, though now and then a low moan issued
from her lips.

'I could not have borne it much longer,' he went on, as in her mute
sympathy Audrey rested her face against his cold, damp forehead; 'the
life was killing me. How was a man to live without hope? And I had no
hope.'

'I should always have loved you,' she said simply.

'Yes, my own faithful on