If the Iron King felt any sorrow at his young wife's mortal illness, he did not show it. If he felt any compunction for having taxed her strength to its extremity, he did not express it. He maintained his usual stolid manner, and merely issued general orders that no trouble or expense must be spared in her treatment and in her interest. He came into her room every day, leaning on the arm of his servant, to ask her how she felt, and to sit a few minutes by her bed. Violet could no longer come to Rockhold, because a little Violet bud, only a few days old, kept her a close prisoner at the Banks. But Mr. Fabian came twice a week. The minister from the mission church at North End came very frequently, and as he was an earnest, fervent Christian, his ministrations were most beneficial to Rose. On the day that Mr. Rockharrt first rode out, the end came, rather suddenly at the last. There was no one in the house but Cora and the servants, Mr. Clarence having gone back to North End. Cora had left Rose in the care of old Martha, and had come down stairs to write a letter to her brother. She had scarcely written a page when the door was opened by Martha, who said, in a frightened tone: "Come, Miss Cora--come quick! there's a bad change. I'm 'feard to leave her a minute, even to call you. Please come quick!" Both went to the bedside of the dying woman, over whose face the dark shadows of death were creeping. Rose could no longer raise her hand to beckon or raise her voice to call, but she fixed her eyes imploringly on Cora, who bent low to catch any words she might wish to say. She was gasping for breath as in broken tones she whispered: "Cora--the Lord--has given me--grace--to forgive them. Write to--my step-mother. Fabian--will tell you--where--" "Yes; I will, I will, dear Rose," said Cora, gazing down through blinding tears, as she stooped and pressed her warm lips on the death-cold lips beneath them. Rose lifted her failing eyes to Cora's sympathetic face and never moved them more; there they became fixed. The sound of approaching wheels was heard. "It is my grandfather. Go and tell him," whispered Cora to old Martha without turning her head. The woman left the room, and in a few moments Mr. Rockharrt entered it, leaning on the arm of his valet. When he approached the bed, he saw how it was and asked no questions. He went to the side opposite to that occupied by Cora, and bent over the dying woman. "Rose," he said in a low voice--"Rose, my child." She was past answering, past hearing. He took her thin, chill hand in his, but it was without life. He bent still lower over her, and whispered: "Rose." But she never moved or murmured. Her eyes were fixed in death on those of Cora. Then suddenly a smile came to the dying face, light dawned in the dying eyes, as she lifted them and gazed away beyond Cora's form, and murmuring contented; "Father, father--" and "With a sigh of a great deliverance," she fell asleep.