“We shall have a gloomy report to send in to-morrow, Parkes,” said the elder. “Not one of these late operation cases will recover. Hopeton is sinking fast; Malcolm's wound has put on a treacherous appearance; that compound fracture shows signs of gangrene; and there's Conway, we all thought so well of last night, going rapidly, as though from some internal hemorrhage.” “Poor fellow! it's rather hard to die just when he has arrived at so much to live for. You know that he is to have a peerage.” “So he told me himself. He said laughingly to me, 'Becknell, my boy, be careful, you are cutting up no common sort of fellow; it's all lordly flesh and blood here!' We were afraid the news might over-excite him, but he took it as easily as possible, and only said, 'How happy it will make my poor mother;' and, after a moment, 'If I only get back to tell it to her!'” “A civilian below,” said an hospital sergeant, “wishes to see Mr. Conway.” “Can't be,--say so,” was the curt reply, as the doctor tore, without reading, the piece of paper on which a name was written. “The lawyer, I have no doubt,” said the other; “as if the poor fellow could care to hear of title-deeds and rent-rolls now. He 'd rather have twenty drops of morphine than know that his estate covered half a county.” The sergeant waited for a second or two to see if the doctor should reconsider his reply, and then respectfully retired. The stranger, during the short interval of absence, had denuded himself of great-coat and snow-shoes, and was briskly chafing his hands before the fire. “Well, Sergeant, may I see him?” asked he, eagerly. “No. The doctors won't permit it.” “You did n't tell them who I was, then, that's the reason. You did n't say I was the confidential agent of his family, charged with a most important communication?” “If I didn't, it was, perhaps, because I didn't know it,” said the man, laughing. “Well, then, go back at once, and say that I've come out special,--that I must see him,--that the ten minutes I 'll stay will save years and years of law and chancery,--and that”--here he dropped his voice--“there's a hundred pounds here for the same minutes.” “You'd better keep that secret to yourself, my good friend,” interposed the sergeant, stiffly. “Well, so I will, if you recommend it,” said the other, submissively; “but surely, a ten-pound note would do you no harm yourself, Sergeant.” An insolent laugh was the only answer the other vouchsafed, as he lighted his cigar and sat down before the fire. “They won't let me see him for the mischief it might do him,” resumed the other, “and little they know that what I have to tell him might be the saving of his life.” “How so?”