Keane amply revenged for the treachery and wrong you and I dealt him!'

'What will they give me, think you?' John Lock asked hoarsely of the official.

'For life.

You see, you are an old offender,' was the answer in no compassionate tone. 'For life!'

The words sent a thrill to the woman's heart. Bernard Keane was safe.

'For life! John Lock repeated, with blanched features and terror

stricken eyes. 'For life, my God! Ursula, good-bye, a long good-bye! Say one word before we part. Say you are sorry.

'I am glad she hissed out between her teeth.

They took John Lock away, unresisting after that, his head drooped on his breast, his shoulders bent; twenty years seemed to have settled on him in the space of one short hour.

When he went out of the house, Ursula fell prone across the threshold of her room, and lay struggling desperately for breath.

CHAPTER XLIII.

DEAD.

RALPH PIERCE, harassed in mind, tortured with anxiety for his daughter, did not return to his old home after Ursula had left him once more for America. He spent the greater part of his nights in preaching, and lodged in a small cottage in the suburbs. But one day there came a letter in his trembling hand addressed to Miss Nell Weston.'

Nell was brushing Lennard's well-worn jacket, and giving a tender finishing touch to his little necktie, preparatory to his going to 1 rehearsal, when the postman ran

up to the third floor with the mis

sive.

'What on earth have you come here for?' asked the child, in amaze

ment.

"'Cause it's for you,' replied the man, with a snuffle peculiar to him.

'Can't be for me,' Nell affirmed positively. I never had a letter in my life, and it's not likely I am going to begin now. Why, I don't know anybody that can write!'

She spoke as if she had attained the age of Methuselah, and leveled the clothes-brush at the man as if warding off the letter.

'I suppose you can read, little missy; and if you can, see here— you'll find it's for you.'

'Yes, I can read,' Nell answered, with a saucy toss of the head, and write too, maybe better than many folks; so give it me, please.'

In her curiosity and eagerness she almost snatched it, and, holding it at arm's length, peered at it with one big blue eye half closed, as though she thought there was something ton suspicious in its appearance to trust it nearer her.

'It's really me!' she exclaimed. 'What is it?' asked Lennard, brushing violently at his trousers.

'Just what I want to know! Here it is as big as life and twice as natural "Miss Nell Weston." Lennard, don't you think we are getting up in the world when folks take to writing to me, and directing like that?'

I know'd it was for you,' sniffed the postman. 'I am right, like other people, sometimes.'

Nell turned upon him with majesty. In this important crisis of her young life, while she held in her tiny fingers the very first missive she had ever received, common words and manners were out of place.

'Postman,' she said, 'you mean well enough, but you had better

go down, and not waste your time here, when people have business affairs on hand. There's old Mrs. Simpkins, at the bottom of the house, calling to you in a way that will injure her throat, if it doesn't end in a fit.'

The man sniffed and grinned at the small creature's newborn dignity, and made towards the door.

'Postman,' called Nell, with a second thought, 'I daresay there'll be more letters coming-plenty of them and please to bring them up at once.'

'Who is it from?" questioned Lennard, pausing in his toilette.

'We shall know that by and by,' replied Nell severely. She looked at the superscription again, examined the postmark, and finally opened the envelope carefully with a knife, and began to read. Lennard, rebuked for his curiosity, went on dressing, with unruffled temper, startled at length by a loud exclamation from his sister.

6

Nothing, only they're coming back. Somebody is very ill-O poor thing!—and I am to dust the rooms, and get things ready for tomorrow.'

'Who is it-Mr. Pierce ? Is Miss Ursula ill?'

'Yes, I suppose so. What will the poor old man do? He was white as a sheet when he left here, and I mistook him for his own ghost' (here Lennard read the letter); 'and I'll get the key and go and brighten up the place a little. Poor Miss Ursula! She was crossgrained sometimes; but I like her all the same.'

Lennard scanned the letter, but he was in a hurry; and, besides, good and gentle-hearted as he was, his mind was so completely occupied by one absorbing thought, that he realised or comprehended

little outside of that beautiful dream of his.

Nell passed the whole day in setting the shabby room to rights, polishing up the rickety old furniture, and making Ursula's bedchamber look as bright and pleasant as she could. It was a difficult task, for the bare lodging possessed nothing which either taste or skill could arrange into comfort or prettiness.

It was nearly dusk the next day when a cab drove up to the door, and Ralph Pierce got out, looking more haggard and troubled than

ever.

Nell happened to be in the passage that did duty for a hall, just as he lifted out a woman. The veil which was thrown over her bonnet was large and thick, but Nell could dimly see the outlines of the lovely face underneath. So terribly changed and pale, save for the fatal hectic burning hotly on either cheek, that the child uttered a cry of surprise and grief.

Pierce made a warning gesture which silenced her at once, and then he carried his pale burden up the stairs slowly, though she was as light as a child.

'Shall I help you?' Nell whispered, awed by the old man's strange manner.

He shook his head.

'Are the rooms straight?' he

Pierce assisted the sick woman to her bed, holding her tenderly with his arm. Nell whispered to him if she should help to undress her.

'Yes,' he answered drearily, his dim eyes misty with unshed drops, ' and I'll go and bring a doctor for her.'

Nell took off the heavy veil, and looked at the thin wan face in the dim half light-so beautiful still, but with the stamp of death on every feature. The woman lay with her great dark eyes closed, evidently conscious, but too weak and suffering to make any effort at exertion.

Suddenly she opened her lids wide, and almost glared round the

room.

'Where is he? where am I?' she articulated with difficulty.

Her voice was piteous in its utter feebleness, and, at the sound of it, Ralph Pierce, who had reached the door, hurried back to the bed, and, bending over, whispered some words that appeared to act as a sedative on the

nerves.

Like a sensible little creature, Nell did not attempt to speak to the invalid, who had resumed her passive attitude. The child crept noiselessly about, and, bringing some cool fresh water, began bathing the feverish and throbbing temples.

'How pleasant? murmured the woman, half opening her eyes. 'How good you are!

It seemed to Nell that Ursula's voice had never sounded so sweet before; the old imperiousness had quite gone out of it. The face, too, had gained a gentleness and pathos of expression that only sorrow and suffering can bring.

All this wrung the child's pitying heart.

'Oh, don't you know me ?' she exclaimed, with a little sob.

‘I

am Nell Weston; I live the flight above this. You'll be better soon, I hope, Miss Ursula !'

Nell,' the woman repeated softly. Yes, yes, I know who it is. You will take care of me? He said you would-father, you know. I try to be patient, that he may not be troubled; but it won't be for long-for long! I feel that here.

She pressed down a thin fragilelooking hand on her sunken breast, as if to still some pain.

Just then Pierce came back, carrying a trunk.

'Dress her in fresh things,' he whispered. She is tired and ill, and it will do her good. I will not be gone long.'

Nell rushed to the trunk at once, and while she knelt by it, unpacking some of the old shabby garments it contained, Ralph Pierce bent over the sufferer, stroking her long glossy black hair, that, detached from the comb, fell in heavy coils over her shoulders, giving even more ghastliness to the face it enframed.

The tears stood in the old man's eyes, ready to fall, and Nell began to cry in sympathy.

'I'll do all I can for her, Mr. Pierce, I will; but, oh, it breaks my heart! Has she been ill long, -ever since she went away?'

'Yes, yes,' he said, in a broken voice, but flushing deeply as he answered; 'I am very grateful, Nell, you are a good little girl.'

'Nothing to brag of, I'm afraid,' replied the child modestly; but I ain't quite a heathen. I'm a pretty good nurse, father says, and Lennard-she'll find that.'

'I am sure she will, but she is very weak, my poor child, and she can't bear being talked to.'

'We will be quiet as mice,' Nell answered, putting on a queer solemn look. I know that children should be seen and not heard, and

I like to do what those wise sayings tell one.'

She has all sorts of odd fancies,' continued Pierce, in a shy hesitating tone. 'Such people always have. You mustn't listen to her if she talks, but go on with your work, whatever it is.'

Nell stared at him in dismay and astonishment. She wasn't to talk, and she wasn't to listen! In her perplexity she began to sob quite violently.

'Don't, don't!' cried the old man, patting her flaxen head; 'you mustn't cry-that would do her more harm than anything.'

Nell gulped down her sobs, dashed vehemently at the drops that fell down her cheeks, and, biting her rosy lips, returned to the trunk, from which she gathered up in her tiny arms a great heap of clothing. This accomplished, she approached the bed on tip-toe.

I'm going to undress you,' she said, in a little low voice like a dove's coo. 'You'll feel much better when you get these black things off.'

I am thirsty,' murmured the woman-so thirsty !'

'I'll get you a draught of beautiful cold water. The wine is in the cellar, and I can't get at it,' the child explained deprecatingly.

The water was drunk eagerly. 'You are very kind, little one. How shall I thank you?'

Nell couldn't trust herself to answer calmly. This excessive gentleness, in one whom she had known so haughty and imperious, touched her to the very core. She folded a white wrapper round the shadowy form, and let the sufferer lie quiet and undisturbed until Pierce returned.

The doctor left a prescription, but said little. It was evident that to his practised eye insidious disease had completely sapped the woman's youth and strength. She

was in the last stage of decline, and he told Nell so, when she crept out into the passage after him.

'She may live for weeks, or a few days may end her,' he said gently. The beautiful face-beautiful even in wreck-had appealed to him. 'I do not believe she has strength to last very long.'

'And, sir, she went away so bright and well,' murmured Nell huskily; 'it's dreadful to think of! Poor Miss Ursula !'

There was no consolation to offer, and the doctor was hurrying away, when Ralph Pierce came out and spoke to him, while Nell went back to the sick-room. 'No hope!'

Ralph Pierce knew that from the first. The doctor only confirmed his conviction.

For three days the old man and the child watched together by the bed, for the woman never sat up again. She did not suffer much pain, except when a frightful paroxysm of coughing seized her; but the powerful opiate administered caused her to lie still, half dreamily, the greater portion of the

time.

When they spoke to her, she would try and rouse herself for a brief space, essaying to smile gratefully for the little services rendered; and sometimes they would see her still red lips part, and hear her praying, in broken whispers-prayers for forgiveness and resignation and faith.

Ralph Pierce's distress was so poignant that, more than once unable to control it, he was forced to leave the room. The woman perceived this, and her composure would be so disturbed that agitation brought back the racking cough and sharp pain that were wearing her life so quickly away.

'Don't let father grieve,' she said to Nell. Tell him I am happy, very happy, much happier than life

can make me. I only fret at leaving him now; and if it wasn't for that I should be glad to go, Nell, there, where the weary are at

rest.'

'O Miss Ursula, you are grown so good; you'll be sure to see her! Tell her, father and I and Lennard miss her every day. Maybe she'll ask up there for us all to come to her soon!'

It was the close of the third day. Nell was sitting by the patient, and Pierce, broken-hearted and broken down by trouble and watching, lay on a sofa in the next room.

The woman had been silent and motionless for a long time. Nell could see that she slept at intervals, and that a lovely peaceful smile hovered over her mouth, as if in her dreams some good angel had brought a vision of the peace and rest that awaited her. She woke with a start, opened her eyes that looked doubly large from the deep shadows beneath them, and glanced vaguely about. Her eyes fell on Nell.

'Did you hear it?' she whispered. "What?' asked the child, a little awed by the question, and the rapt expression that had stolen over the poor white face.

'The music-such beautiful music! Hush, oh, hush! I hear it yet! It is the angels singing!'

She lifted one slender hand; her black eyes grew eager and wistful; a radiance, a glory, which were not of this world, beamed in them.

A terrible fear came over Nell. She knew what the change meant. The woman was dying.

'Don't you hear?' she faltered feebly.

The child could not answer, her tongue clove to her mouth.

"It is Lennard's violin,' she said, at last.

'I know,' the woman murmured, and it is something beyond, as well. I am dying: don't cry-I'm

not afraid! Call father, Nell. The music, oh, the music!'

Nell bent over her, and kissed her forehead. The pallid lips moved, and she heard the voice, grown supernaturally low, say, The Lord is my shepherd-He leadeth me in green pastures-He maketh me to lie down beside the still waters.'

Nell stole into the next room, and gently shook the old man, who slept. Her touch roused him

at once.

'Is my child worse?' he cried, staggering to his feet.

Nell could not reply the look in her little face was quite enough. Pierce knew that the end had come, and hurried to the bedside. Nell followed him, and dropped on her knees.

'My child! O my darling she heard him exclaim.

The dying woman turned her eyes on his face, and she struggled hard to speak.

'Don't grieve, father don't grieve! I am going! Take me in your arms to say good-bye!'

He sat down on the side of the bed, and lifted the wasted figure until the head, with its rich lustrous hair, rested on his breast.

'Don't fret, father, don't! Put your arms around me; it's only for a very little while, then you'll meet us yonder-me and mother!'

The struggle of the sweet voice died away. There was a heavy breath, then the head fell back, and the large black eyes gazed upwards with the stony stare of death.

Nell rose up from her shaking knees.

'Don't, oh, don't grieve, Mr. Pierce-she sees you, perhaps, and it troubles her. The angels have her in their arms now, and she will be among them, bidding Miss Ursula welcome!'