Can he not remain here until morning, at least ?" The starved apothecary looked at him out of a pair of hollow, melancholy eyes.
"Gold can do anything," was his plaintive reply.
"I understand.

You shall have it.

Are you sure you can do nothing more for him ?" "Nothing whatever, sir; and excuse me, but there are customers in the shop, and I must leave, sir." Which he did, accordingly; and Sir Norman was left alone with all that remained of him who, two hours before, was his warm friend.

He could scarcely believe that it was the calm majesty of death that so changed the expression of that white face, and yet, the longer he looked, the more deeply an inward conviction assured him that it was so.

He chafed the chilling hands and face, he applied hartshorn and burnt feathers to the nostrils, but all these applications, though excellent in their way, could not exactly raise the dead to life, and, in this case, proved a signal failure.