I had meant to obey literally and go in a day or two; but one thing or other kept intervening, and a week or ten days passed. One Wednesday Miss Deveen was engaged to a dinner-party, and I took the opportunity to go to Pimlico. It was a stormy afternoon, blowing great guns one minute, pouring cats and dogs the next. Mrs. Marks was alone in the parlour, the tea-things on the table before her. "We thought you had forgotten us," she said in a half-whisper, shaking hands. "But this is the best time you could have come; for a kind neighbour has invited all the children in for the evening, and we shall be quiet. James is worse." "Worse!" "At least, weaker. He cannot sit up long now without great fatigue. He lay down on the bed an hour ago and has dropped asleep," she added, indicating the next room. "I am waiting for him to awake before I make the tea." He awoke then: the cough betrayed it. She went into the room, and presently he came back with her. No doubt he was worse! my heart sank at seeing him. If he had looked like a skeleton before, he was like a skeleton's ghost now. "Ah, Johnny! I knew you would come." I told him how it was I had not been able to come before, going into details. It seemed to amuse him to hear of the engagements, and I described Helen Whitney's Court dress as well as I could--and Lady Whitney's--and the servants' great bouquets--and the ball at night. He ate one bit of thin toast and drank three big cups of tea. Mrs. Marks said he was always thirsty. After tea he had a violent fit of coughing and thought he must lie down to rest for a bit. Mrs. Marks came back and sat with me. "I hope he will get well," I could not help saying to her. She shook her head. "I fear he has not much hope of it himself," she answered. "Only yesterday I heard him tell Willy--that--that God would take care of them when he was gone." She could hardly speak the last words, and broke down with a sob. I wished I had not said anything. "He has great trust, but things trouble him very much," she resumed. "Nothing else can be expected, for he knows that our means are almost spent." "It must trouble you also, Mrs. Marks." "I seem to have so much to trouble me that I dare not dwell upon it. I pray not to, every hour of the day. If I gave way, what would become of them?" At dark she lighted the candles and drew down the blinds. Just after that, there came a tremendous knock at the front-door, loud and long. "Naughty children," she exclaimed. "It must be they." "I'll go; don't you stir, Mrs. Marks." I opened the door, and a rush of wind and rain seemed to blow in an old gentleman. He never said a word to me, but went banging into the parlour and sank down on a chair out of breath. "Papa!" exclaimed Mrs. Marks. "Papa!" "Wait till I get up my speech, my dear," said the old gentleman. "She is gone." "Who is gone!" cried Mrs. Marks.