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 white teeth. A wonderful and a fearful sight to see, that stately edifice of queenly strength and beauty thus laid low and pillaged and stript of all colour save purple and white—the hues of mourning—the purple lips and the white cheek. I have seen many people die, and the moment I looked at Katharine Westonhaugh I felt that the hand of death was already closed over her, gripped round, never to relax. John led me to her side, and a faint smile showed she was glad to see me. I knelt reverently down, as one would kneel beside one already dead. She spoke first, clearly and easily, as it seemed. People who are ill from fever seldom lose the faculty of speech.

"I am so glad you are come. There are many things I want you to do."

"Yes, Miss Westonhaugh. I will do everything."

"Is he come back?" she asked—then, as I looked at her brother, she added, "John knows, he is very glad."

"Yes, we came back this morning together; I came here at once."

"Thank you—it was kind. Did you give him the box?"

"Yes—he does not know you are ill. He means to come at eleven."

"Tell him to come now. Now—do you understand?" Then she added in a low tone, for my ear only, "I don't think they know it; I am dying. I shall be dead before to-night. Don't tell him that. Make him come