On the bed, covered with a white counterpane up to her chin, lay the form of his fair wife, still and white as death. On one side of her sat the nurse; on the other side stood the doctor. Mr. Force raised his finger in token that he did not mean to speak, nor expect to be spoken to, and so he approached the bed on tiptoe, and gazed upon the marble features, colorless except for the dark rings around the eyes and lips. As the husband gazed a spasm of anguish convulsed his features. He turned his eyes from the face of his wife to that of the young doctor who stood over her. Dr. Hollis smiled and placed his finger on his lips. Abel Force understood both signs, and felt a little hope steal into his heart. He stood for some time longer gazing upon the beloved face, and then, at another sign from the doctor, he turned to steal noiselessly from the room. As he went from the bedside toward the door his eyes fell on a large packet of paper, with a note tied on the top of it. And as he passed he took it up, thinking that it might be something that required to be sent to the post office. After leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him, he looked at the superscription of the packet. And it was this: “To my dear husband, Abel Force. To be opened by him alone.” The packet was sealed and tied with a cord, under which was slipped a letter, directed simply to Abel Force, Esq. When Mr. Force had looked at this packet he showed neither surprise at its existence or impatience to read it. Without breaking the seal, he slipped it into his pocket, and went quietly down to the parlor in search of his troubled young people. He found them all seated as if they had been at a funeral. Odalite and Le occupied one of the small sofas. Old Capt. Grandiere sat in a large armchair, with his little niece, Rosemary, on his knees, her head on his shoulder and her arms around his neck. She had sobbed herself into exhaustion, and therefore into quietness, and was listening calmly to the consolation the old skipper was trying to give her, and which was something like this: “I tell you, my pet, he may be as stubborn as a mule, and hold his tongue until he loses the use of it, but I know that, not two months since, he was taken prisoner off my ship, along with me and all the crew, and so far from being the pirate’s mate, he was the pirate’s prisoner. I’ll tell my own story, and it will clear Roland as sure as it will hang Silver.” This, in every form and variety of language, was the oft-repeated consolation that the old skipper was offering to his little niece, and not without effect. Elva and Wynnette were seated with the earl, who was talking to them in a low voice, and evidently trying to keep up their spirits. As soon as the squire entered the room his daughters all hurried to meet him, with anxious looks.