father, I should be very sorry not to come. How is he?"

Hannah did not answer him, so intent was she upon studying her brother's
face, which was anything but sympathetic, as he shook the snow from his
overcoat and warmed his hands by the stove. The Hon. Burton Jerrold
liked his comfort and ease, and as he was far from easy or comfortable,
he made his sister feel it by his manner, if not by his words.

"Is father so much worse that you must send for us in this storm?" he
asked, and Hannah replied:

"Yes, he is very bad. He says he is going to die, and I believe it. He
will not last the night out, and of course I must send for you, and he
insisted that Mr. Sanford should come too."

"Yes, certainly; I am glad he did," the clergyman rejoined, thrusting
his hands into his coat-pocket. "He wishes the communion, I dare say,"
and he placed reverently upon the table the little silver service.

Hannah's face flushed as she replied;

"He did not mention that, I do not suppose he thinks he can receive it.
What he wishes is to see you, to talk to you, to--to--"

She hesitated, her brother's countenance was so forbidding, then added,
quickly:

"'He wishes to tell you something which he has kept for years," and her
voice sank to a whisper as she glanced again at her brother.