"I fear she is dying, young man," Mr. Thornton replied, solemnly. "I can not restore her to consciousness. Was she anything to you, sir?" "Indeed, yes; she was all the world to me, poor child, and we were to be married, one of these days!" Hartly replied, kneeling beside her, with tears in his eyes. "Susie! oh! Susie, my little waif, can't you look up and speak to me?" The girl slowly opened her eyes, and gazed up at him, with a loving smile. "Yes, Hal, I know. I am dying, Hal. Where is Fritz?" "I don't know, darling. I have not seen him since morning." "Well, when you see him, tell him I sent the message, and got an answer that the detectives would come." "The detectives?" "Yes. I went for him, to telegraph for them, and he gave me five dollars. It is in my pocket, Hal--you can have it, to get me a little, plain stone for my grave." "But, Susie, you can't be dying--tell me what is the matter?" "She has been cruelly beaten. I came here a few moments ago and drove off the devils, but I fear I came too late!" Mr. Thornton explained, sadly. "It was papa, you know!" Sue added, as Hartly uttered a cry of astonishment. "He discovered the errand I had done, and had a big Irishman capture me and bring me here. Then he and the countess came, and I was tied to a stake and whipped till I fainted. They have killed me, I guess. I feel as if I am filling up inside, and something tells me I shall soon die. I hate to leave you, Hal, but I am not afraid to die. I have always said my prayers, loved the Lord, and been honest, and I know He will receive me." The girl's childish faith and simplicity touched Mr. Thornton as well as young Hartly, and tears flowed freely. The little outcast soon closed her eyes again, her arms about Hartly's neck, as she rested in his embrace, and a peaceful expression of contentment upon her face. About sunset she spoke, without opening her eyes. "Hal!" she said, softly. "Yes, Susie," he replied; "what do you wish?" "Not much. After I am gone burn the old house yonder, and break up the smugglers." "Yes, Susie." "And you'll be a good man, Hal, all your life, so you will join me in heaven?" "I will try, dearest." "Then kiss me good-by." Convulsed with sobs, the grief-stricken lover obeyed, and, just as the last rays of sunset began to fade, Susie breathed her last, expiring without the least appearance of pain, and a faint, peaceful smile upon her lips. For some moments after her death neither Hartly nor Mr. Thornton spoke, but finally the latter said: "She has gone where she will know no more suffering or sorrow and it is perhaps better so. Is your home near by?" "I live in a sort of hut back in the woods, and if you will lend a hand we will take her there."