What is it ?" "Where is Everard ?" Everard Kingsland, a fair-haired, blue-eyed, handsome boy, lifted his head from the opposite side.

It was a handsome, high-bred face--the ancestral face of all the Kingslands--that of this twelve-year-old boy.
"Here, papa!" "My boy! my boy! whom I have loved so well--whom I have shielded so tenderly.

My precious, only son, I must leave you at last!" The boy stifled a sob as he bent and kissed the ice-cold face.

Young as he was, he had the gravity and self-repression of manhood already.
"I have loved you better than my own life," the faint, whispering voice went on.

"I would have died to save you an hour of pain.