Before, however, it was possible that this note could have reached his lordship, another came from Lady Martindale, requesting to see the old gentleman immediately, for Lord Martindale had been seized by a return of his complaint, and his medical attendants thought him to be in very imminent danger. There was no refusing such a summons as this. He therefore promptly obeyed it, but firmly resolved to give the living to Mr. Henderson; and very much did he dread any thing of a discussion on the subject with his noble relatives. There was no opportunity for the discussion he dreaded. Lord Martindale was obviously near his end, and his power of thought and attention was rapidly failing. He recognised his relative, and thanked him very cordially and formally for his many acts of kindness to himself and family. He then seemed to lose thought and sensation for a few minutes. Again he opened his eyes, and inquired for Philip; but when told that Philip was on a tour with his bride, he seemed distressed at his forgetfulness, and endeavoured to make an effort to revive his languishing strength, but it was all in vain. Not being able to shake off his weakness, he endeavoured to disguise it, and complained of drowsiness, and that the medicine which he had taken last night had deprived him of rest, and that he would now sleep a little, and then he should be better able to converse. This movement was complied with by his attendants, and they were silent. The patient closed his eyes, but his lips kept moving, and in a very few minutes he awoke again, but the eyes looked more dim; and he endeavoured to fix a steadfast look on Mr. Martindale, and he said, "Is that Philip?" He had just discernment enough to see that he was wrong, and just power enough to express a sense of his weakness. He presently ceased to ask questions, and he no more attempted to reply to those which he asked him. He once more looked on those about him, and waved his hand, and faintly said "Go," as if he wished to be left alone; but there was not time to comply with his request, for that word was his last: he was no longer conscious. The empty or the crowded apartment was precisely the same to him. CHAPTER VI. "All promise is poor dilatory man, And that thro' ev'ry age." YOUNG.