He turned his eyes gratefully towards the stream of silvery moonlight that poured through the open casement.
"'Angels ever bright and fair!'" he murmured--then as Mary came back to his side, he smiled vaguely; "I thought I heard my little sister singing!" Slipping her arm again under his head, she carefully administered a dose of the cordial which had been made up for him as a calmative against his sudden heart attacks.
He swallowed it slowly and with difficulty.
"I'm--I'm all right," he said, feebly.

"The pain has gone.

I'm sorry to have wakened you up, Mary!--but you're always kind and patient----" His voice broke--and a grey pallor began to steal almost imperceptibly upwards over his wasted features.

She watched him, her heart beating fast with grief and terror,--the tears rushing to her eyes in spite of her efforts to restrain them.

For she saw that he was dying.