As one in a dream she ascended the broad steps, crossed a stately hall, was ushered up a noble stairway and along thick-carpeted corridors until at last she found herself in a darkened chamber where, his dark head conspicuous upon the white pillow, he lay. A nurse rose from beside the bed as Hermione entered and softly withdrew. Left alone, she stood for a long moment utterly still, her hands tightly clasped, her breath in check, gazing at that dark head upon the pillow, at that outstretched form lying so silent and so very still. "Hermione!" A feeble whisper, a sigh faintly breathed, but at the sound she had crossed the wide chamber on feet swift and noiseless, had sunk upon her knees beside the low bed to lean above him all murmurous love and sighing tenderness, while she stole a timid hand to touch the hair that curled upon his pallid brow; then, for all his helplessness, she flushed beneath his look. "How beautiful--you are!" he said faintly, "and I--weak as--confounded rat! Hermione--love, they tell me I--must die. But first I want you for--my very own if only for--a little while!" "Oh, my dear," she whispered, soft mouth against his pale cheek, "I always was yours--yours from the very first; I always shall be." "Then you'll--marry me?" "Yes, dear." "Now?" "Yes, dear." "I--hoped you would, so--I arranged--minister's waiting now. Will you--ring?" And he motioned feebly toward an electric bell-push that stood upon a small table beside the bed. And now once again as one in a dream she obeyed, and was presently aware of soft-treading figures about her in the dim chamber--among them the Old Un whose shoes for once creaked not at all. As one in a dream she made the responses, felt the feeble clasp of that hand whose strength and masterful power had thrilled her, heard the faint echo of that loved voice that had wooed her so passionately once, yet wooed in vain, while now-- She was alone again, alone with him who lay so very still and pale with eyes closed wearily; from him she glanced to that which gleamed so bright and new upon her finger and bending her head she pressed the wedding ring to her lips. "Wife!" he whispered; the weary eyes were open, and his look drew her. So she knelt beside the bed again, stooping above him low and lower until her head lay beside his upon the pillow. Slowly, slowly his feeble hand crept up to her glowing cheek, to the soft waves of her hair, and to the little curl that wantoned above her eyebrow. "Hermione--wife--kiss me!" Tenderly her arms enfolded him, and with a soft little cry that was half a sob she kissed him, his brow, his hair, his lips, kissed him even while she wetted him with her falling tears. "Beloved," he murmured, "my glorious--scrubwoman--if I must--leave you--these dear hands need never--never slave again. Never--any--more, my Hermione." Long after he had fallen to sleep she knelt there, cradling his weakness in her arms, looking down on him with eyes bright with love.