“It would be better, far better, that she should lie down and try to rest. I will give her something; but you--you must come with me, Grace.” “And Milly too,” the girl said again, as if these were the only words she was capable of. She gathered up her sister from where she lay at the doctor’s feet, and whispered to her, smoothing away her disordered hair. Milly was not able to stand. She leaned her weight upon her sister; her pretty hair fell about her face, all wild and distorted with crying. She wanted to get down again to the floor to kneel at the doctor’s feet. “He could do something still if he were to try. Oh, Gracie, Gracie! think of us two miserable girls, and mamma, and all the children. He could do something if he were to try.” “Milly! we have got to stand by him--to keep up his heart----” “I cannot stand--I cannot stand, I think I will die. Oh, doctor, doctor! do something, find out something! Couldn’t you do something if you were to try?” “Milly, am I to go alone--the last time--to papa?” “Put our blood into him,” cried Milly, holding up her small white wrists. “They do that sometimes. Take mine--oh, every drop!--and Grace’s too. Doctor, doctor! you could do something if you were to try.” For weeks after, this cry rang in the good doctor’s ears. They both caught at the idea; even Grace, who had command of herself. How easy it seemed!--to take the young blood out of their veins and pour it, like new life, into his. Sometimes it is done in stories--why not, why not, in actual life? Their voices ran into a kind of clamour, imploring him. It was long before the impression made by this scene left the doctor’s mind and recollection. Nevertheless, that night both the girls stood by their father’s bedside quietly enough, making no scene, watching eagerly for any last word he might have to say to them. But how few of the dying have any last words to say! He opened his eyes, and smiled vaguely twice or thrice, as though all had been quite happy and simple around him--he had gone out of the region in which anxieties dwell. Perhaps he did not remember that he was leaving them helpless among strangers--or if he knew, the ebb of the wave had caught him and he could feel nothing but the last floating out to sea, the sound of the waters, the tide of the new life.