“It might give him a chance,” said the doctor, “to put right some wrong he might otherwise leave behind him. If what you are thinking of is that, he might put himself right in any spiritual point of view--at this last moment.” Katherine rose up as if she were blind, feeling before her with her hands. Her father, with all his imperfections--with nothing that was not imperfection or worse than imperfection--with a mind that had room for nothing but the lowest elements, who had never thought of anything higher, never asked himself whither he was going---- She walked straight forward, not saying anything, not able to bear another word. To put himself right--at the last moment. She felt that she must hasten to him, fly to him, though she did not know, being there, what she should do. The room was so entirely in its usual condition--the nurse settling for the night, the medicines arranged in order, the fire made up, and the nightlight ready to be lighted--that it seemed more and more impossible to realise that this night there was likely to occur something different, something that was not on the invalid’s programme. The only thing that betrayed a consciousness of any such possibility was the look which the nurse rapidly gave Katherine as she came in. “I am putting everything as usual,” she said in a whisper, “but I think you should not go to bed.” That was all--and yet out of everything thus settled and habitual around him, he was going away, going absolutely away to no one could tell where, perhaps this very night. Katherine felt herself stupefied, confounded, and helpless. He was going away all alone, with no directions, no preparations for the journey. What could she tell him of the way? Could any guide be sent with him? Could any instinct lead him? A man accustomed only to business, to the state of the stocks and the money market. Her heart began to beat so fast that it sickened her, and she was conscious of scarcely anything but its sound and the heaving of her breast. The invalid, however, was not composed as usual. He was very restless, his eyes shining from his emaciated face. “Ah, that’s you, Katie,” he said; “it’s too late for you to be up--and the doctor back again. What brings the doctor back again? Have you any more to do to me, eh, to-night?” “Only to make sure that you’re comfortable,” Dr. Burnet said. “Oh, comfortable enough--but restless. I don’t seem as if I could lie still. Here, Katie, as you’re here, change me a little--that’s better--a hold of your shoulder--now I can push myself about. Never been restless like this before, doctor. Nervous, I suppose you think?” “No, you’ve never been like this before,” the doctor said, with an unconsciously solemn voice. “Oh, papa,” cried Katherine, “you are very ill; I fear you are very ill.”