“I have good purposes,” she murmured, “but I can’t, I can’t. I don’t know as they are real; may be, if I get well, they would not last, and it’s all so dark, so desolate,—nothing to make life desirable,—no home, no name, no friends—and death is so terrible. Oh, Hugh, Hugh! don’t let me go. You are strong; you can hold me back, even from Death himself, and I can be good to you; I can feel on that point, and I tell you truly that, standing as I am with the world behind and death before, I see nothing to make life desirable, but you, Hugh, my noble, my abused brother. To make you love me, as I hope I might, is worth living for. You would stand by me, Hugh,—you if no one else, and I wish I could tell you how fast the great throbs of love keep coming to my heart. Dear Hugh, brother Hugh, don’t let me die,—hold me fast.” With an icy shiver, she clung closer to Hugh, as if he could indeed do battle with the king of terrors stealing slowly into that room. “Somebody say ‘Our Father,’” she whispered, “I can’t remember how it goes.” “Do you forgive and love everybody?” Alice asked, sighing as she saw the bitter expression flash for an instant over the pinched features, while the white lips answered, “Not Adah, no, not Adah.” Alice could not pray after that, not aloud at least, and a deep silence fell upon the group assembled around the death-bed, while ’Lina slept quietly on Hugh’s strong arm. Gradually the hard expression on the face relaxed, giving way to one of quiet peace, as they waited anxiously for the close of that long sleep. It was broken at last, but ’Lina seemed lost to all save the thoughts burning at her breast,—thoughts which brought a quiver to her lips, and forced out upon her brow great drops of sweat. The noonday sun of May was shining broadly into the room, but to ’Lina it was night, and she said to Alice, now kneeling at her side, “It’s growing dark; they’ll light the street lamps pretty soon, and the band will play in the yard, but I shall not hear them. New York and Saratoga are a great ways off, and so is Terrace Hill. Tell Adah I _do_ forgive her, and I would like to see her, for she is my half sister. The bitter is all gone. I am in charity with everybody, everybody. May I say ‘Our Father’ now? It goes and comes, goes and comes, forgive our trespasses, my trespasses; how is it, Hugh? Say it with me once, and you, too, mother.” Mrs. Worthington, with a low cry began with Hugh the soothing prayer in which ’Lina joined feebly, throwing in ejaculatory sentences of her own. “Forgive my trespasses as I forgive those that trespass against me. Bless Hugh, dear Hugh, noble Hugh. Forgive us our trespasses, forgive us our trespasses, our trespasses, forgive _my_ trespasses, _me_, forgive, forgive.”