"Not till morning--good Heaven! and that Will--" he muttered to himself as he rushed upstairs. He thought more of Margaret than of Mr. Grey even then. Margaret was seated at the bed-side close to her uncle's pillow; as still and as white as a figure moulded in wax. Her eyes were fixed upon his face; one hand rested in his; the other hung listless by her side. Mr. Casement stood leaning against the foot of the bed, looking, to do him justice, very disconsolate. Margaret lifted up her heavy eyes, and gave one look at Mr. Haveloc. He was in mourning; a token of respect he had thought proper to pay Aveline; the sight sent a thrill to her heart. She leaned over her uncle, and kissed his forehead. "My dear uncle, Mr. Haveloc," she whispered. Mr. Haveloc stepped close to the bed, and took Mr. Grey's hand, which Margaret resigned to him. "Ah, Claude!" said Mr. Grey with a faint smile. They were the last words he spoke. Almost directly afterwards he fell into a kind of doze; his eyes half closed. Mr. Haveloc turned abruptly round, seized Mr. Casement by the arm and led him to the window. He had never addressed Mr. Casement in his life before, and that gentleman might be pardoned for looking extremely surprised on the occasion. "Tell me--how is he?" said Mr. Haveloc. "Anybody might see that with half an eye, I should think," muttered Mr. Casement more gruffly than usual, for he had a great mind to cry. "Good Heaven, can nothing be done!" exclaimed Mr. Haveloc clasping his hands. "Nothing at all," returned Mr. Casement. "The doctor left at eight o'clock, and Mr. Warde at ten. When the doctor and parson both go, I take it, there is an end of everything." "Good Heaven! and I have something of the last importance to communicate to him!" exclaimed Mr. Haveloc. "Ah, youngster! clever of you to leave it to the last," said Mr. Casement. "Good Heaven! when I was away--when I did not know it before. It concerns his niece--" "Oh! some rigmarole about Miss Peggy you may tell it to me. I am appointed one of her guardians." Mr. Haveloc turned abruptly away, and stood by the bed-side, watching Mr. Grey with eager interest. At length, he thought it just possible that Margaret might have arranged everything with her uncle before writing to him. "Did your uncle know of the resolution you announced to me in your letter of yesterday?" he asked coldly. "Hush! no. Don't speak to him;" said Margaret shrinking back with an appearance of terror. He sighed, and moved to a little distance from her chair. Mr. Casement came close to the bed, and he saw that all would soon be over. Margaret sat paralysed with fear, watching the peculiar and earnest expression of the countenance which marks that when the senses are sealed, the soul is still awake, and waiting to be released. And it is at once awful and sublime when no pause or cessation of consciousness takes place, and the spirit steps from one existence to the other without an interval of slumber.