“I’m going, doctor; it’s no good saying I’m
not. I knew it, a week ago. I wish Milly would
come!”

Then he dozed off again, and the ticking of
the clock kept time with his heavy breathing.

About seven he called out, without opening
his eyes:

“Will she be long now, doctor? Is she
coming? Don’t let it be too late!”

“She will be here about nine,” said the doctor,
damping the towels; “not much longer to wait
now.”

Frank dozed off again. A few minutes before
the hour, he cried out once more:

“Is it nine yet, doctor? Is she come?”

“It will strike nine directly,” answered the
other; “only a few minutes more.”

“Call the bearer, will you, doctor;” he
lifted himself up and looked towards the door;
“and tell him to get my brushes and some
water. I must dress myself for Milly; she likes
to see my hair tidy. You know, doctor, it was
my hair she liked so much when we were first in
love, and it must not be untidy now, must it?”

They brought the brushes and the water, and
the poor fellow brushed away at his bald head,
and combed the imaginary curls over his hot
forehead.

“She likes them best so, doctor. Lay me
down easily, so as not to disarrange them;
now, put away the bottles; Milly doesn’t
like bottles lying about. She’s a tidy little
wife, doctor, and I want everything to look
nice.” Then he started up wildly. “Don’t
touch me, doctor! I hear her coming. I
hear her coming! Milly, Milly, your poor old
Frank’s here—don’t mind his not getting up,
it’s only a little headache—he will be well soon,
and we’ll go away together, and be happy.
Tell her to come in doctor, will you; those
servants are keeping the doors locked.”

The carriage drove up, and poor Milly, pale
and frightened, alighted. The doctor laid his
hand on her arm, and with a quiet motion
of his head led her into the room.

“Oh, Frank!”

“Milly, darling!” And the living and the
dying lay clasped in each other’s arms.

“I thought you would come Milly. It’s a long
way, isn’t it; but you don’t mind for Frank?”

“Oh, Frank, darling, don’t talk so. I never
wanted to leave you. Why did you send me
away? Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do!”

“We were very happy in the little cottage,
Milly. It was the ‘Company’ did it—Leverson,
I mean—but it’s all for the best—you’ll
come to me by-and-by, Milly darling—you’ll
never forget your poor old Frank?”

“I don’t want to stay behind, Frank. I
want to die with you!”

“We’ll walk through the woods home, Milly;
the sun is not hot there, and the church bells
sound so well under the trees; only another
week, and they’ll ring for our Marriage!” He
was back again at the old Kent parsonage, in
the days of their wooing.

Then he turned towards her, and feeling about
with his hands, called out:

“Miily! Milly! Where are you, darling?
Don’t go that way; there’s the dark deep lake
there. Milly dear, give me your hand. I didn’t
want to leave England, but that man made me
—we couldn’t pay the money, you know.
Milly, they say I did my duty. God knows I
loved my men, and I loved my Milly. Now I
see you—so near me, so bright—the church
chimes are ringing—it’s for us, Milly—our
wedding-day—so happy—so very happy—”

The doctor drew her tenderly from that
long embrace, and led her away to his own
house. She never spoke or sighed, but walked
beside him like one in a trance, and sat
down in the chair he placed for her, like a
little child. For days she sat or stood as
they told her, eating and drinking what was
placed before her, and never uttering one word.
At length, on the third day they brought her
child to her. For a moment she looked at it
vacantly; then, as it stretched out its tiny arms,
she started up, clasped it to her breast, and burst
into a flood of tears.

“It is better so,” said the doctor, as he shut
the door and went out; “Time must do the
rest.”

Early in December will be ready
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TWENTY VOLUMES,
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