She silently obeyed him, and then the old woman's eyes looked once more intently into his. He could not conjecture her meaning, until, in feeling her pulse, he found that she was trying to touch his fingers with hers. He slipped his own into the palm where Mrs. Gerome's lay, and, by a last great effort, she pressed them feebly together. Even then, the touch of those white, soft fingers, thrilled his heart as no other hand had ever done, and he said,-- "Elsie, you mean that you leave her in my care? That you put her in my hands? That you trust her to me?" It was impossible to mistake the satisfied expression that flashed over her countenance. "I accept the trust. Elsie, I promise you that while I live she shall never want a true and faithful friend. I will try to take care of her body, and pray for her soul. I will do all that you would have done." Once more, but very faintly, she pressed the two hands she had clasped, and closed her eyes. "Oh, doctor, can't you save her?" sobbed Robert. In the solemn silence that ensued Mrs. Gerome lifted her face, and Dr. Grey never forgot the wild, imploring gaze, that met his. He understood its import, and shook his head. She rose instantly, moved away from the bed, and left the room. For nearly an hour Dr. Grey hung over the prostrate form, which lay with closed eyes, and gradually sank into the heavy lethargic sleep, from which he knew she could never awake. Leaving her to the care of Robert and two female servants, he went in search of the mistress of the silent and dreary house. Taking a lamp from the escritoire in the back parlor, he went from room to room, finding nowhere the object he sought, and at length became alarmed. As he stood in the front door, perplexed and anxious, the thought presented itself that she might have gone down to the beach. He went back to the apartment occupied by the dying woman,--felt once more the sinking pulse, and took a last look at the altered and almost rigid face. "Robert, I can do her no good. Her soul will very soon be with her God." "Oh, sir, don't leave her! Don't give her up, while there is life in her body!" cried the son, grasping the doctor's sleeve. Dr. Grey put his hand on the Scotchman's shoulder, and whispered,-- "I am going to hunt for Mrs. Gerome. She is not in the house. I may be able to render her some service, but your mother is beyond all human aid." "Is there any pulse?" "It is so feeble now, I can scarcely count it." "Please, doctor, stay here by her while she breathes. Don't desert the dear soul. My poor mother!" Robert lost all control of himself, and wept like a child. Loth to forsake him in this hour of direst trial, Dr. Grey leaned against the bed, and for some moments watched the irregular convulsive heaving of the woman's chest. "Oh, sir, if my mistress hadn't a heart of stone, she would have let her die peacefully. She might at least have granted her dying prayer." "What was it?"