Then, turning her eyes on Clement, she said,
softly:

"Give me your hand, please, Mr.
Charlewood."

He gave it, and she took Mabel's also, and
joined the two together in her feeble clasp.

"My two good friends," she whispered, "my
two kind ones. Some day, when you are
married to each other——" She broke off, feeling
Clement start, and looked up. "You will be
married to each other, some day, won't you?
I always used to like to think of that, long ago.
Some day, when you are very glad and happy
together, you will think of little Corda, and it
will be sweet for you to know that you were
good to her, and that she was very, very
grateful."

The' two hands she held met in a long clinging
pressure. Strange that the two beings,
whom the brother had striven so hard to
sunder, should be joined in one clasp by the
sister's innocent childish hand!

"Yes," said Corda, smiling faintly, " you
will be very happy. Nothing is so happy as
reallv loving, I think. And you do love each
other."

Mabel was kneeling, with her cheek on the
pillow beside the little head covered with bright
burnished waving tresses. There was silence,
only broken by the low sobs which Mabel could
not altogether repress. Corda closed her eyes
again, and remained so motionless, that, for a
moment, they thought she had fainted, but
presently she opened them wide and looked around
her. There was a change coming over her face,
a change that heralded the end, as both the
watchers felt too surely.

"Papa," said Corda, in so low a voice, that
Mabel, whose ear was at her lips, could scarcely
hear it. " Call papa and Alf."

Mabel signed to Clement, who left the room,
and presently returned with Jerry Shaw and the
child's father. The latter flung himself on his
knees, by the bed, opposite to Mabel. He
seized one of the dying child's hands, and
pressed it to his breast, as though, by holding
it fast, he could keep her with him. Corda's
glance wandered uneasily round the room.

"Your brother? " said Jerry Shaw. " Yes,
mavourneen. He is coming."

As he spoke, the dog uttered a low growl,
instantly suppressed, and Alfred Trescott
entered the room. The child's face lighted up
at the sight of him, even at that moment, and
she made a sign with her eyes that he should
approach her. It would be hard to conceive a
countenance so haggard, worn, and terrible in
its evil beauty as Alfred's, standing there, with
his dark eyes fixed on his little sister, and
seeming neither to heed nor see any of the
other occupants of the chamber. All the
history of his wasted and perverted youth was
written on his face. He came slowly towards
the bed, and suffered the child to take his hand
and kiss it.

"Good-bye, darling Alf," she said. "Be
good, Alf. Be good, dear, and you will be
happy when I am gone."

"Corda! " the voice that came from his lips
startled all present. It did not seem to belong
to him. It was hollow, and hoarse, and broken.
"Corda, you are not going!"

"Yes, dear, to mamma. Love me, Alf, and
—and —be good to poor papa."

"No, no, Corda. No, you must not die.
You shall not die. Stay, Corda! Little Corda,
the only creature on this earth who cares for
me, stay awhile, Corda. I cannot let you go;
I must have time to be better to you. Live,
Corda, only live, and you will see; I will be
good to you—I will—I will."

His face was convulsed, but there was no
tear in his eyes, and he stood with his hand on
hers, looking down upon her with the despairing
gaze of a drowning man who sees the lost plank
to which he clung shattered and lost.

Mabel passed her arm round the child,
supporting her, and gently wiped her forehead
with a handkerchief. " Don't cry," said Corda.
"Don't be sorry, all of you. I think—I—hear
mamma. It seems as if-- as if—there were a
voice calling me, ever so far away. It must be
—mamma. Good-bye, papa. Kiss me, Alf,
my own brother—my darling—be—good—God
bless you, Alf. How dark it is! That is
Mabel's hand, I know. God bless you, dear."
Suddenly she sat upright, as though struggling
for breath; but in a moment the most lovely
smile beamed over her sweet face, she stretched
her arms out before her, crying, " Yes, yes, it is
mamma! She is calling me again. Oh, mamma,
mamma, take Corda!" And fell back in Mabel's
arms as softly as a little wave that melts upon
the summer sea—dead.

On Thursday, 12th December, will be published
THE
EXTRA DOUBLE NUMBER FOR CHRISTMAS,
Written entirely
BY CHARLES DICKENS
AND WILKIE COLLINS.

A NEW SERIAL STORY
BY WILKIE COLLINS,
Will shortly appear in these pages.