expect."

His sweet voice and sympathetic face made the poor woman almost break
down; she pushed hastily on, and, saying something incoherently about
leading the way, ushered us through a kitchen and up a short flight
of stairs. I would have given a great deal to have been allowed to
stay behind. But Arthur walked simply on behind the woman.

"I won't tell him you're here," she said; "he'd say he wasn't fit to
see you. But it won't harm him; maybe it'll even cheer him up a bit."
She pushed the door open just above; I could distinguish the sound of
hard breathing, with every now and then a kind of catch in the
breath, and a moan; then we found ourselves inside the room.

The sick man was lying propped up on pillows, with a curious wistful
and troubled look on his face, which altered very quickly as we came
in. Much of his suffering was nervous, so-called; and a distraction,
any new impression which diverted his mind, was very helpful to him.

"George," said the woman, "here is Mr. Hamilton and his friend come
over from the Squire's to see you."

He gave a grateful murmur, and pointed to a chair.

"I am so sorry," said Arthur, simply, "to see you in such suffering,
Mr. Keighley. We heard you were in trouble, so we thought we would
ride over and see if we could do anything for you."

"Thank you, sir, kindly," said the sick man, feebly. "But I'm past
doin' anything for now. Doctor's giv'n me up; he gives me a week. But