understanding which she could not give, for she could not understand in
the least. "I have never done anything for anyone. I must do something."

"I'm afraid you'll be worse for it, father," she said, hesitant. "And so
is Aunt Janet--poor Aunt Janet. She's so anxious about you, and she's so
tired, you know."

He shook that thought off impatiently.

"I'll be master in my own house," he cried, with some little return to
the old Andrew. "I know it will make me worse! I know I'm dying! There,
I ought not to frighten you, Marcella! I've frightened you enough in my
life. But surely when I've lived for myself I can die for others."

And she knew that it was no use talking to him. Indeed, she would not
have dared to cross his will. In the night he prayed about it.

"Lord, I must tell these others how I set beasts in Thy way when Thou
wouldn't have made my life Thy path. I must tell them how I never knew
liberty till Thou hadst made me Thy slave, how I never knew lightness
till I carried Thy cross, how I was hungering and thirsting until I was
fed with Thy Body and Blood--"

He broke off and talked to Marcella, words that seemed eerie and
terrible to her.

"To-morrow, Marcella, is the day when the ruin came on Lashnagar.
To-morrow I shall die--"

"Oh, father!" she cried helplessly.