"I am afraid we must be prepared for the end in a very few hours now, Mrs. Arkel," the doctor said to her. Gerald had had a more than usually restless night. "Is there nothing to be done?--no one we could get from London?" "Nothing. He is beyond science--beyond drugs. An attack of this kind is invariably fatal to men of his constitution and habit. He has lasted longer that I thought. It is only right you should be prepared for the end." Still Miriam kept a smiling face always to him. Wherever she went he followed her with his eyes; when he could he clasped her hand in his as if to save him from the deep abyss on the brink of which he knew so well he was. He seemed always to wish to speak to her, and in between his short snatches of sleep he would murmur all the time: "You said I would die, Miriam, when the money came to me--if only I had held by you--but I neglected you--I left you--oh, Miriam, how could I leave you--Hilda never loved me--I'm afraid the estate is dipped, dear--Dundas'll soon put that right--why didn't he come to see me?--might have come to a poor dying chap----" "He did come, dear; he is here now. Would you like to see him?" "No--I want you--only you. Don't let anyone else in, Miriam. Just our two selves. You forgive my leaving you, dear? Ah, yes, you were always good--read to me, Miriam--I never was a good chap--but there's some of the Bible you can read to me." Then softly she read to him from the New Testament all the loving promises of Christ, and the pitiful tenderness of the gospel. "Just turned thirty, and to die!--I'm not sorry though--God won't be hard on me will He, Miriam?--it was in my blood----!" "God will take you to Himself, Gerald dear; He is all merciful." "Ah, well, I am the work of His hands--clay in the hands of the Almighty potter. I have cracked in the furnace of prosperity. Hilda never loved me! Never--never! I gave up all for her. How good you are, Miriam? You will marry Dundas, won't you? and live in the old place--good chap Dundas. He'll soon get things to rights--and poor Gerald will be forgotten----!" "Never by me, dear." "Hilda will--Hilda never loved me--never--never----" That was ever the burden of his cry. Hilda had left him to die alone--had taken all and had given nothing in return. For twelve hours Miriam never left his side, and when the end came she was there to close his dying eyes. Towards dawn he died. Worn with watching she still held his hand in hers, and soothed him until she saw the change in him which no one could mistake. She rang the bell and sent for the doctor. The dying man opened his eyes and looked at her and smiled. "Miriam--Hilda!--ah, poor Hilda--I was bad--good-bye, Miriam--Hilda!--Hilda!" Hers was the name last on his lips. But Miriam did not think of that. She knelt by his death-bed and prayed. CHAPTER XIV. A QUEER STORY QUEERLY TOLD. "Gentleman below named Farren to see you, sir!"