She took the paper from his hand, and standing by him read as follows, while he leant his arm on the table and gazed in her face. "My dear nurse, Miss Kate will not let me see what she has written, so I must write for myself." "I have felt deeply your truth and fidelity to one very dear to me, and I can assure you, as long as I have a home to offer you, none after my wife will be more welcome there than yourself, but as ladies are changeable, (at least they tell me so), and you might possibly at some future day choose a house of your own, the enclosed is a rough draft of a deed now in preparation, securing to you an annuity, which will I trust, render you tolerably independent for the remainder of your days. I consider that in doing this I merely act as the executor of your late lamented master, think that you owe it to him and look upon me as still your debtor for unlimited care and kindness when I require it. Yours with sincere regard, FRED. B. EGERTON. We dare not tell how Kate expressed her entire approbation of this letter; severe ladies may be shocked, and we have a great respect for them. She was no prude, and Egerton had strong nerves, so no one need trouble themselves further on the subject. All arrangements and projects were however broken up, shortly before the Winters and their now blooming adopted daughter, left town for A----. A telegraphic despatch from Allerton announced the sudden return of Lord Egerton's paralytic seizure, and summoned his brother to what soon proved to be a death-bed scene. The peer showed symptoms of satisfaction when his discarded brother took his place by his bed side, but he was speechless, and after a week's suffering breathed his last. Meantime Kate and her kind friends reached their old home, the sense of happiness tempered the solemn tidings of Lord Egerton's death which reached them as they left London. Kate could not repress a shudder as the shout of "Carrington, Carrington, change here for Batten Wiggem, Manchester," met her ear; she looked at Winter and silently raised her eyes to Heaven. Mrs. O'Toole had been some days installed at Abbey Gardens previous to their return, and as Kate caught the first glimpse of her, the white apron, and the snowy cap, the black gown and the eager, straining look, the attitude all the same, exactly the same, as the sad day she had bid her good bye, her heart bounded within her at the contrast. How she clung to her and kissed her, and smothered her wrinkled cheeks with her fair soft hands, and would not let her out of her sight for a moment, and pleased herself by waiting on her.