"There must be no delay," said he. His wife nodded, and bade him be easy in his mind. "Excitement is bad for you," she said. "The lawyer is sure to come." He knew that it would be dangerous for him to agitate himself, and he fell asleep, holding the hand of his darling child. In the night he awoke, and prayed for a few days of life, and that his senses would not forsake him before the end came. His wife, awake in the adjoining room, prayed also, but it will be charitable to draw a veil over her during those silent hours. Another day passed, and again he asked for his lawyer. "He called," said his wife, "but you were asleep, and I would not have you disturbed." It was false; she had not written to the lawyer. That night the dying man knew that his minutes were numbered, and that he would not see another sunrise in this world. Speech had deserted him; he was helpless, powerless. He looked piteously at his wife, who would not admit any person into the room but herself, with the exception of her children and the doctor. She answered his look with a smile, and with false tenderness smoothed his pillow. The following morning the doctor called again, and as he stood by the patient's bedside observed him making some feeble signs which he could not understand. Appealing to Mrs. Fox-Cordery, she interpreted the signs to him. "He wishes to know the worse," she said. The doctor beckoned her out of the room, and told her she must prepare for it. "Soon?" she inquired, with her handkerchief to her dry eyes. "Before midnight," he said gravely, and left her to her grief. She did not deprive her husband of his last sad comfort; she brought their daughter to him, and placed her by his side. Mrs. Fox-Cordery remained in the room, watching the clock. "Before midnight, before midnight," she whispered to herself a score of times. The prince of the house, soon to be king, came to wish his father farewell. There was not speck or spot upon the young man, who had been from home all day, and had just returned. During this fatal illness he had been very little with his father. "What is the use of my sitting mum chance by his bedside?" he said to his mother. "I can't do him any good; and I don't think he cares for me much. All he thinks of is that brat."