Salome went to her own room, changed her dress, laid gloves, hat, and shawl in readiness upon the bed, and threw herself down on the lounge to rest, and if possible to sleep. When Dr. Grey reached "Solitude," he found Robert Maclean pacing the paved walk that led to the gate. "Oh, doctor! Have you come at last? It seems to me I could have crawled twice to your house, since Jerry came back." "What change has taken place in your mother's condition? She was better than usual, when I saw her last." "We thought she was getting along very well, till all of a sudden she became speechless. Go in, sir; don't stop to knock." Mrs. Gerome sat at the bedside, mechanically chafing one of the hands that lay on the coverlet, and the face of the dying woman was not more ghastly than the one which bent over her. As Dr. Grey approached, the mistress of the house rose, and put out her hands towards him, with a wistful, pleading, childish manner, that touched him inexpressibly. "Do not let her die." He leaned over the pillow, and put his finger on the scarcely palpable pulse. "Elsie, tell me where or how you suffer." A ray of recognition leaped up in her sunken eyes, and she looked at him with a yearning, imploring expression, that was pitiable and distressing indeed. He saw that she was struggling to articulate, but failing in the effort, a groan escaped her, and tears gathered and trickled down her pinched face. He smoothed her contracted forehead, and said, soothingly,-- "Elsie, you feel that I will do all that I can to relieve you. You can not talk to me, but you know me?" She inclined her head slightly, and in examining her he discovered that only one side was completely paralyzed, and that she could still partially control her left arm. When he had done all that medical skill could suggest, he stood at her side, and she suddenly grasped his fingers. He put his face close to hers, and observing her tears start afresh, whispered,-- "You wish to tell me something before you die?" A gurgling sound, and a faint motion of her lips was the only reply of which she was capable. He placed a pencil between her fingers, but she could not use it intelligibly, and he noticed that her eyes moved from his to those of her mistress, as if to indicate that she was the subject of the desired conversation. It was distressing to witness her efforts to communicate her wishes, while the tears dripped on her pillow; and unable to endure the sight of her anguish, Mrs. Gerome sank on her knees and hid her face in the coverlet. Dr. Grey gently lifted Elsie's arm and placed her hand on the head of her mistress, and the expression of her face assured him he had correctly interpreted her feelings. Something still disturbed her, and he suggested,-- "Mrs. Gerome, put your hand in hers."