g, and Michael knelt
down by the bed and offered up the commendatory prayer. But once more
the dark eyes opened: there was a strange, unearthly light in them.

'Inasmuch,' he said; 'Inasmuch----'

His head fell back a little heavily, and the soul of Cyril Blake was
with its God.

* * * * *

'He does not suffer now,' were Audrey's first words, as she laid him
gently down and gave her last solemn kiss. When Michael put his arm
round her and led her gently away, she offered no resistance.

'I must leave you for a little while, dear,' he said, as he stood beside
her a moment; 'but I will send Mollie to you.'

Then she begged that she might be left alone.

'Her mother will want her; and I would rather, much rather, be alone.'

Then, when Michael had gone, she laid her head down on Cyril's
writing-table, and the tears had their way. Until now she had not
thought of herself; but now it seemed to her as though the world had
grown suddenly cold and dark. He had loved her--oh, how well he had
loved her!--and now the Divine will had taken him from her!

But Audrey wept less for herself than for that bright young life cut off
so mysteriously in its early bloom, before its youthful promise had come
to maturity. But as her tears flowed, certain words she had often read
recurred to her mind, and comforted her:

'For honourable age is not that which standeth in length of time, nor
that is measured by number of years.

'But wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is old age.

* * * * *

'For his soul pleased the Lord: therefore hasted He to take him away
from the wicked.'

Certainly there was no bitterness in Audrey's grief when, a few hours
later, she stood with Michael beside that still form. How beautiful her
Cyril looked! she thought; and even Michael marvelled as he gazed at
him. He lay there like a young knight who had fallen in his maiden
fight, and who in death was still a conqueror. The living man who stood
there could almost have envied him, he was so worn and jaded with the
battle of life.

'How peacefully he sleeps!' he said, in a moved voice; 'he looks as
though he were dreaming happily, Audrey. Surely it will comfort his
mother to see him like this!'

'She will not see him yet; Biddy says she is too ill. We must give her
time to recover herself--the blow has been so awfully sudden. Yes, he
looks happy; my darling sleeps well.