And, he had noticed, also, that when midnight struck, the patient turned his eyes toward the door, with an expectancy in them which presently grew into a longing but brightened into contentment as soon as the door opened and Laura appeared.

And he did not need Laura's rebuke when he heard his father say: "Clay is good, and you are tired, poor child; but I wanted you so." "Clay is not good, father--he did not call me.

I would not have treated him so.

How could you do it, Clay ?" Clay begged forgiveness and promised not to break faith again; and as he betook him to his bed, he said to himself: "It's a steadfast little soul; whoever thinks he is doing the Duchess a kindness by intimating that she is not sufficient for any undertaking she puts her hand to, makes a mistake; and if I did not know it before, I know now that there are surer ways of pleasing her than by trying to lighten her labor when that labor consists in wearing herself out for the sake of a person she loves." A week drifted by, and all the while the patient sank lower and lower.
The night drew on that was to end all suspense.

It was a wintry one.
The darkness gathered, the snow was falling, the wind wailed plaintively about the house or shook it with fitful gusts.