She patted his hand as if soothing a child, and, turning, mounted the stairway. How weak and old he seemed at the moment! Fordyce was at work. She could hear his typewriter click laboriously (he was his own typist as yet), and she stood for a moment in the hall with hand pressed hard upon her bosom, the full significance of this last visit overwhelming her. Here was the end of her own happiness--the beginning of long-drawn misery and heart-hunger. Her blood beat tumultuously in her throat, and each throb was a physical, smothering pain. At last she grew calmer and knocked. Ben opened the door, and his face shone with joy. "You're late!" he reproachfully exclaimed; then, as he peered into the hall, he asked, "Where's the Captain?" She was very white as she answered: "He can't come up this morning. He ain't able." "Is he worse?" His face expressed swift concern. "Yes--Dr. Steele came last night and examined him--" "What did he say?" "He told us to 'get out' of here--quick." He drew her in and shut the door. "Tell me all about it. What is the matter?" "It's his heart. He can't stand it here. We've got to get away--down the slope--to-morrow." "Not to stay?" "That's what Steele says. Mart's in bad shape." He searched her face with earnest gaze. "I can't understand that. He seemed so happy and so much better, too." "He's been a good deal worse than he let on, or else he fooled himself. The doctor found his heart jumping cogs right along." "And he positively ordered you to go below?" "Yes--he scared me. He said Mart might die any minute--if he stayed." In the silence that followed his face became almost as white as her own, for he understood and shared her temptation. At last he said, slowly, "And you are going with him?" "Yes, I must. Don't you see I must?" He understood, too. Haney had refused to go without her, and to stay would be to shorten his life. "How did the Captain take it?" he asked with effort. "Mighty hard at first, but he's fairly cheerful to-day. He wants to leave me here--but I'm going with him. It's my business to be where he is," she added. "He sure needs me now." "What are you going to do with the house?" "Leave it just as it is. He won't sell it or rent it. He wants you to look after all his business just the same--" "I can't do that." "Why not?" "Because I don't intend to stay here." As he spoke his excitement mounted. "My little world was all askew before you came. You've put the finishing-touch to it. I'm ready to make my own will at this moment." "You mustn't talk that way," she admonished. "I don't like to see you lose your grip." Her words were commonplace, but her hesitating, tremulous voice betrayed her and exalted him. "I'm--we are depending on you."