She had been a mother indeed; humoring his every whim. She had never scolded; not Rita! The doctors had said he could sleep without his opium; they shut him up and he suffered torments. Rita came in the night. Her little store of money had been drawn on. They, together, deceived the doctors. For years they deceived them, he and Rita, until all her little savings were gone. And then she had worked for the gentlemen down-town; had schemed and plotted and brought him comfort, until the doctors gave up the struggle. Now she was gone--forever! Strange, but this contingency had never once occurred to him. How egotistical he must have been; how much a child--a spoiled child! He looked about him. Rita had years ago told him a secret. In the night she had bent over him and called him fond names; had wept upon his pillow. She had told him to speak the word just once, never again but that one time, and then to forget it. Wondering he said it--"Mother." He could not forget how she fell upon him then and tearfully embraced him; he the heir and nephew of John Morgan. But it pleased good Rita and he was happy. Dead! Rita! Would it waken her if he spoke that name again? He bent to her cheek to say it, but first he looked about him cautiously. Rita would not like for any one to share the secret. He bent until his lips were touching hers and whispered it again: "Mother!" She did not move. He spoke louder and louder. "Mother." How strange sounded that one word in the deserted room. A fear seized him; would she never speak again? He dropped on his knees in agony; and, with his hand upon her forehead, almost screamed the word again. It echoed for the last time--"Mother!" Just then the face of Virdow appeared at the door, to be withdrawn instantly. Then Gerald grew cool. "She is dead," he said, sadly to himself. "She would have answered that!" A change came over him! He seemed to emerge from a dream; Virdow stood by him now. Drawing himself up proudly he gazed upon the dead face. "She was a good nurse--a better no child ever had. Were my uncle living he would build her a great monument. I will speak to Edward about it. It is not seemly that people who have served the Morgans so long and faithfully should sleep in unmarked graves. Farewell, Rita; you have been good and true to me." He went to his room. An hour later Virdow found him there, crying as a child.