"Good-by, Millie darling, best of sisters. You will have a long--happy life--in spite of all." Mildred clung to her passionately, but at Belle's faint call for Roger she knelt at the bedside and looked with streaming eyes on the near approach of death. "Roger," Belle whispered, "lift me up. I want to die on your breast--you saved me--you KNOW. Take care Millie--mamma--little ones. Don't wake them. Now--tell me--some--thing--comforting out of--the Bible." "'God is not willing that one of His little ones should perish,'" said the young fellow brokenly, thankful that he could recall the words. "That's sweet--I'm--one of His--littlest ones. It's--getting--very I know--what it-means. Good--by. We'll--have--good--times--together--yet." Then came that absolute stillness which he understood too well. He bowed his head upon the cold brow of the dead girl, and wept as only strong men weep in their first great sorrow. Mildred almost forgot her own grief in trying to lead him away and to comfort him, but he clung convulsively to Belle's lifeless form. At last he broke almost frantically away. "Roger, Roger," cried Mildred, "where are you going? What are you going to do?" "I don't know--I must have air or my heart will break; I'll go mad. She's just been murdered, MURDERED," and he rushed out. After a little while he returned, and said, "There, Millie, I'm better. I won't give way again," and he took her in his arms and let her cry away some of the pain in her heart. Mrs. Jocelyn still lay upon the sofa, white as marble, and with dry, dilated eyes. She was far beyond tears. On the day following Belle's death the Hon.------sat down to a sumptuous dinner in one of the most fashionable of the Saratoga hotels. A costly bottle of wine added its ruddy hue to his florid complexion. The waiters were obsequious, the smiling nods of recognition from other distinguished guests of the house were flattering, and as the different courses were brought on, the man became the picture of corpulent complacence. His aspect might have changed could he have looked upon the still form of the once frolicsome, beautiful girl, who had been slain because he had failed so criminally in fidelity to his oath of office. It would not have been a pleasant task for him to estimate how much of the money that should have brought cleanliness and health among the tenements of the poor was being worse than wasted on his own gross personality. CHAPTER XLIV THE FINAL CONSOLATIONS OF OPIUM The glowing September sun had rarely revealed a sadder group than that which still watched beside poor Belle. At last Roger looked at his watch and said: "I will now go and see Mr. Wentworth, and bring Mrs. Wheaton." "Very well, Roger," Mildred replied, "we leave everything in your hands."