Mr. Grey looked round again at the women and inclined his head significantly to them, as though he would say: "Poor Sir Alexander! His dreams must have been bad indeed, if he fancied anyone had taken his money." By this the great flush had disappeared from the old man's forehead, the veins had subsided, and a deadly pallor covered his features from forehead to chin. During the paroxysms of his delirium, it seemed as though his head was in danger of bursting from too great a supply of heated blood; now it looked as if the walls of his skull and the flesh of his face were about to crumble and fall in for want of fluid sufficient to sustain their weight. But in the eye still lingered the heat and flickered the fire of the fever. He lay still for a while, and seemed to be about to fall asleep. Presently, however, all were startled to hear his voice ring out clear and firm, high above their notion of his present strength, clear above their notion of his intellectual capacity: "Henry Grey, take her hand, my daughter's hand, and lead her here--no the other hand--give her your left hand, Henry Grey." Mr. Grey walked to where the girl stood, now pale and tearless, at the foot of the bed, and offered her his right hand; then his left, and led her to the side of the bed, where he had been standing. "Now, Henry Grey, take the Testament in your right hand. I am going to make you swear--I am a deputy-lieutenant--to guard with all your power and wiles, my only daughter, Maud Midharst, herself and her fortune and her happiness. Say the words after me." "Herself and her fortune and her happiness to guard with all my power," he repeated. "All your power and wiles," insisted the old man, in a tone of exasperation. "My power and--wiles," repeated Mr. Grey, after a slight hesitation. "To act as executor of my will, trustee to her fortune, and guardian of my child. So help me, God." Mr. Grey repeated the words with solemn deliberation. "Kiss the Book." Mr. Grey bent his head reverentially over the sacred volume and kissed it devoutly. "Kiss the Book, my child. Take it in your own right hand and kiss it. It is the history of the life and sufferings and death of our Lord, and something of great moment is conducting." "Kiss the Book, you also," looking towards Mrs. Grant. She did as he desired. "Now, my daughter, and you, Henry Grey, both together hold that Book, which is the history of the life and sufferings and death of our Lord, to my lips, for I am weak and unable, and I will kiss it last of all." They placed the Book against his lips, and when he had kissed it they drew it back, and placed the Testament on the bed. Mr. Grey folded his arms tightly across his chest; he had a feeling that his chest would burst if he did not shout out and relieve it.