I heard steps outside, but I darted to the door, and stopped Linny and Mary from entering, hardly knowing what I did, as Miss Carr took a step or two forward, and threw herself upon her knees by the bed, dinging to his hands, placing one arm beneath the helpless head, and sobbing and moaning passionately. "I have killed him--I have killed him! and I came that he might live. Stephen, my love, my hero, speak to me--speak to me! God of heaven, spare him to me, or let me die?" I was one moment about to summon help, the next prepared to defend the door against all comers, and again the next ready to stop my ears and flee from the room. But she had bidden me stay, and not leave her, and I felt it a painful duty to be her companion at such a time. So there I stayed, throwing myself in a chair by the door, my head bent down, seeming to see all, to identify every act, but with my face buried in my hands, though hearing every impassioned word. "No," I heard him say softly; "no: such words as those would have brought me from the grave. But why--why did you come?" "I could bear it no longer," she moaned. "I have fought against it till my life has been one long agony. I have felt that my place was here--at your side--that my words, my prayers would make you live; and yet I have stayed away, letting my pride--my fear of the world--dictate, when my heart told me that you loved me and were almost dying for my sake." "Loved you!" he whispered faintly; "loved you--Miriam, I dare not say how much!" His voice was the merest whisper, and in my dread I started up, and approached them, fearing the worst; but there was such a smile of peace and restfulness upon his lips as Miss Carr bent over him, that I dared not interrupt them, the feeling being upon me that if he was to die it would be better so. There was a long silence then, one which he broke at last. "Why did you come?" he said. The words seemed to electrify her, and she raised her head to gaze on his face.