"No, Miss, you're right, I haven't the heart to. What's the kitten's life worth next to the young master's. Here take it and welcome; though what the Missus'll say when she finds it's gone, and the old un a howling about the place I don't know, but there, it can't be helped," said Matthew philosophically, as Frances wrapped the kitten up carefully in her cloak, and hurried away. The evening had closed in by the time Frances reached the Park again. She hastily changed her wet things, and went at once to Bertie's room, but her heart misgave her, as, going down the long corridor, she saw Anne seated on the ledge of the large window, with the traces of tears on her face. "I am not too late?" she asked. "I don't know," replied Anne. "He is very, very weak. I could not bear to stay." Frances went on, Robert, as well as Amy, was in the room. He moved a little on one side to allow Frances to come near. "Bertie, my boy," he said, "Missy has brought you Kitty." Frances leant over, and placed it beside him. He opened his eyes feebly, then took the kitten so full of life, and nestled it to his side. "Bertie is very sick," he said, weakly, as he tried to murmur his thanks. This was the first time he had spoken of feeling ill. How pitifully his little childish words smote upon the hearts of his sad, sorrowing parents. "Bertie is very sick," he said again. "I think Bertie is going to die. Poor Bertie!" His mother's tears fell like rain. "God will take care of my boy for me," she said. "My boy, my precious Bertie!" "Yes; but you mustn't cry, you and Papa, and Hannah." Robert's face was wet with tears, while old Hannah sat away in a corner, with her face covered up in her apron, sobbing audibly; but she stifled her sobs upon this, his--might be--last request. "God bless you, Bertie," said Frances, in a broken voice, ere she went away. "Good night," he said. "You may have my top, for bringing me Kitty. Papa will get it for you." And then he turned his head away wearily, and begged his mother to hush him in her arms to sleep. Robert lifted him gently, and laid him close to Amy. She drew him near, nearer still to her poor breaking heart, but she dared not press her lips to his, lest she should draw away the feeble breath, already coming so faintly, growing fainter and fainter every moment. "Kitty must go back to her mother," he said. "Take care of Kitty--pretty Kitty." But soon he grew too weak to heed even Kitty, and could only murmur short broken sentences about Papa, Mamma, and sometimes Missy. Presently he roused again. "Don't cry, Papa, Mamma--Kiss Bertie--Bertie's very sick. Tell Hannah to bring a light--Bertie wants to see you." Alas! his eyes had grown dim. He could no longer distinguish those he loved best, those who could scarcely answer his cry for their tears. They brought a light, old faithful Hannah did. "Can you see me, my own darling?" asked Amy.