‘No,’ sobbed Ruth; ‘I shall not leave you. They will let me stay.’ The doctors were still by the bedside. He saw them—he saw Ruth—he dimly remembered all that had happened now, and, just as the remembrance was getting clearer, everything faded, and he relapsed into unconsciousness again. Ruth, watching by the unconscious form of her husband knew the worst. In mercy the doctors had told her. Her husband had been brought in from the railway with terrible internal injuries, which must be fatal. He had been identified as Squire Heritage by the papers in his pocket, and his wife had been sent for by the railway officials. He was dying. The doctor told her he would not live four-and-twenty hours. Science could do nothing. It was near midnight when he came to himself again, and a great screen was drawn about his bed. He was weaker now, but he did not feel the pain so much; only there was a sensation of floating away. His body seemed too light to stay where it was. He looked up, and saw his wife’s face pressed down on the pillow by his, her sweet eyes watching for the return of consciousness. ‘Ruth, my darling,’ he whispered, ‘keep your face there a little while.’ She kissed him gently, her hot tears wetting the pillow. ‘Don’t cry, Ruth,’ he said. ‘It is better so. I shall escape them all now. Pray for me, Ruth. Had I lived I might have tried to be better, but God knows best.’ He lay for a moment and said nothing. His breath was coming faster and faster, and the gray shadows were settling down upon his face. Presently he closed his eyes again and sighed deeply. For a moment all was still. Then he opened his eyes and fixed them lovingly on Ruth’s face, ‘Smile, my darling,’ he said. ‘Let your smile be the last thing I see on earth. Forgive me for all the wrong I have done, and pray for me sometimes. The only happiness I ever knew in this world was your love. God bless you, my own Ruth!’ She smiled at him as he bade—smiled through the tears that she could not check. His lips moved feebly, and she bent down till they touched her in one last feeble kiss. ‘God—bless you—Ruth,’ he murmured, but so faintly that she could hardly hear it. He never spoke again. Her name was the last word upon his lips. CHAPTER LXIV. GURTH AND HECKETT. The news of the terrible accident on the railway had travelled far, and Edward Heritage’s name had been seen among the list of the injured. The identity of Squire Heritage with Edward Marston was known to Birnie and Egerton. The latter was the first to bring the news of his death to Josh Heckett. The sudden and tragic termination of Marston’s career materially altered the aspect of affairs. He was beyond the reach of all vengeance now.