“Yes, without doubt; but I am not a martyr to overwork, or anything else; my death is not a sentimental tragedy; do not let any one speak of me in that fashion: I simply caught a cold and did not take care; it's quite commonplace.” When he smiled his face was at its best, the dark blue eyes having a roguish look as of a boy. Mrs. Arkwright leant back on her chair and bit her lower lip. “This is good-bye, then, and our friendship--six years long, isn't it?--is over. Had I known it was to be so short--well, we had not quarrelled.” “Not over,” and he looked wistfully at her; “this life does not end all.” “Ah, you have the old romantic faith, and one would like to share it, but no one knows; this life is the only certainty.” “In a few hours,” he went on, “I shall know, and I expect to see my friend Jacob Arkwright, whom I loved, although we only knew one another for three years, and he... will ask for you.” Mrs. Arkwright regarded Egerton with amazement. “He will ask how I kept my trust, and I... will be ashamed, unless you hear my confession and forgive me. For I... have sinned against you and your husband.” “In what?” she asked, with a hard voice. “God knows that I had no thought of you he might not have read while he was here. And afterwards for a year I was in heart your brother; and then--oh, how can I say it and look you in the face, who thought me a good and faithful minister of Christ?” and his eyes were large with pain and sorrow. “Say it,” she whispered, “say it plain; you must,” and she stretched out her hand in commandment. “I loved you as... a man loves a woman whom he would make his wife, till it came to pass that I made excuses to visit you, till I watched you on the street, till I longed for the touch of your hand, till I... oh, the sin and shame--thought of you in the service and... at my prayers; yet I had been left your guardian and had promised to be as a brother to you; besides, nor was this the least of my shame, you were rich.” “And now?” She had risen to her feet “I have finally overcome, but only within these few months, and my heart is at last single. You are to me again my friend's wife, and I shall meet him... in peace, if you forgive me.” For a few seconds nothing was heard but his rapid breathing, and then she spoke with low, passionate voice. “Your love needs no forgiveness; your silence... I can never forgive.” He lived for two hours, and he spoke twice. Once he thanked his nurse for her attentions, and just before he passed away she caught the words, “through much tribulation... enter the Kingdom... God.” A PROBATIONER