"I knew she would die," he said. "Her spirit face came and looked at me through the window one night--it was when she was away"--a shudder shook him from head to foot--"I knew it was a token of her death! Ah! but I forget--did she not tell me it was herself that came, full of love, and pity, and sorrow, and looked at her poor papa, sitting lonely for lack of his little girl? Queenie, Queenie, where are you? Come back, dear! Papa forgives you! He will take you home again out of the cold and wet, and the dark, stormy night." He started up and held out his arms to clasp her to his heart, but instead he encountered the form of the bereaved bridegroom who sat by the side of his bed. They had persuaded, nay, almost forced him away from the side of the dead bride to the relief of the suffering living. He sat there half dazed with grief and horror, hearing dreamily the strange ravings of his father-in-law--ravings that he scarcely heeded then, but which burned themselves into his memory, and were recalled in after years with inexpressible pain. "Ah, Ernscliffe, it is you," said the poor father, when the yearning arms that sought for Queenie touched him instead. "Are you waiting for her, too! You must not blame her very much. She was very young and temptation found her an innocent victim. You remember the woman in the Bible who was forgiven much--because she loved much? Ernscliffe, you will not be hard upon little Queenie--you will forgive her--for she also loved much!" The physician tapped his forehead significantly with his forefinger. "Do not heed him--he raves," he said. "Queenie, Queenie," called the poor sufferer, "come back, dear, I forgive you, but you must ask God to forgive you, too. Get your Bible, pet--read what Christ said." Sydney, standing near the foot of the bed, looked strangely at her mother. The dying man, as his restless glance roved about, saw that look, and beckoned her with a warning finger. "Come nearer, Sydney--you were cold and hard to her when she came home--you, and mamma, and Georgie. Women are always hard to each other. How could you be so cruel to the little one?" He paused a moment, as if for reply, but Sydney turned her pale, changeless face aside, and Mrs. Lyle was sobbing too wildly for words. He went on babbling to himself on the one theme that held his thoughts: "She was such a sweet child--was she not, mamma? So lovely, and so loving! I can see her now with her golden curls flying on the breeze and her light feet dancing over the turf! Little Goldilocks, we used to call her sometimes. Goldilocks, Goldilocks, come, and kiss me. Papa forgives you!" Georgina, who had stood apart weeping against Lord Valentine's shoulder, came forward and fell on her knees by the bed, thrilled to the heart by the tender recollections his words awoke. "Oh, papa, papa," she sobbed, "poor, little Queenie!"