We won't need the Reverend Cyrus." He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk little physicians do, up a grand stair-way where you might have driven a coach and four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber.
"Quiet, now--quiet," the doctor whispered, warningly.

"Excite her, and I won't be answerable for the result." Sir Jasper Kingsland replied with a rapid gesture, and walked forward to the bed.

His own face was perfectly colorless, and his lips were twitching with intense suppressed feeling.

He bent above the still form.
"Olivia," he said, "my darling, my darling!" The heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted, and a pair of haggard, dark eyes gazed up at him.

A wan smile parted those pallid lips.
"Dear Jasper! I knew you would come.