They nursed him night and day. He suffered little, and when he did, Miss Gale stupefied the pain at once; for, as she truly said, “Nothing can hurt him.” Vitality gradually retired to his head, and lingered there a whole day. But, to his last moment, the art of pleasing never abandoned him. Instead of worrying for this or that every moment, he showed in this desperate condition singular patience and well-bred fortitude. He checked his wife's tears; assured her it was all for the best, and that he was reconciled to the inevitable. “I have had a happier time than I deserve,” said he, “and now I have a painless death, nursed by two sweet women. My only regret is that I shall not be able to repay your devotion, Ina, nor become worthy of your friendship, Miss Gale.” He died without fear, it being his conviction that he should return after death to the precise condition in which he was before birth; and when they begged him to see a clergyman, he said, “Pray do not give yourselves or him that trouble. I can melt back into the universe without his assistance.” He even died content; for this polished Bohemian had often foreseen that, if he lived long, he should die miserably. But the main feature of his end was his extraordinary politeness. He paid Miss Gale compliments just as if he were at his ease on a sofa: and scarce an hour before his decease he said, faintly, “I declare--I have been so busy--dying--I have forgotten to send my kind regards to good Mr. Ashmead. Pray tell him I did not forget his kindness to me.” He just ceased to live, so quiet was his death, and a smile rested on his dead features, and they were as beautiful as ever. So ended a fair, pernicious creature, endowed too richly with the art of pleasing, and quite devoid of principle. Few bad men knew right so well, and went so wrong. Ina buried her face for hours on his bed, and kissed his cold features and hand. She had told him before he died she would recall all her resolutions, if he would live. But he was gone. Death buries a man's many faults, and his few virtues rise again. She mourned him sincerely, and would not be comforted; she purchased a burying place forever, and laid him in it; then she took her aching heart far away, and was lost to the public and to all her English friends. The faithful Rhoda accompanied her half way to London; then returned to her own duties in Barfordshire. CHAPTER XXXI. I MUST now retrograde a little to relate something rather curious, and I hope not uninteresting. Zoe Vizard had been for some time acting on Mrs. Gale's advice; building, planning for the good of the poor, and going out of herself more and more. She compared notes constantly with Miss Gale, and conceived a friendship for her. It had been a long time coming, because at first she disliked Miss Gale's manners very much. But that lady had nursed her tenderly, and now advised her, and Zoe, who could not do anything by halves, became devoted to her.