I said nothing, being, indeed, too bewildered to speak.

He held up the candle, and looked at his own face in the glass. It had
been a beautiful face, but disease had wrecked it. "Food for the worms,"
he said. "Curious to think that in a few hours I shall be stiff and
cold--the journey done, the little game played out. Ah me, Holly! life
is not worth the trouble of life, except when one is in love--at least,
mine has not been; but the boy Leo's may be if he has the courage and
the faith. Good-bye, my friend!" and with a sudden access of tenderness
he flung his arm about me and kissed me on the forehead, and then turned
to go.

"Look here, Vincey," I said, "if you are as ill as you think, you had
better let me fetch a doctor."

"No, no," he said earnestly. "Promise me that you won't. I am going to
die, and, like a poisoned rat, I wish to die alone."

"I don't believe that you are going to do anything of the sort," I
answered. He smiled, and, with the word "Remember" on his lips, was
gone. As for myself, I sat down and rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had
been asleep. As this supposition would not bear investigation I gave it
up and began to think that Vincey must have been drinking. I knew that
he was, and had been, very ill, but still it seemed impossible that he
could be in such a condition as to be able to know for certain that he
would not outlive the night. Had he been so near dissolution surely he
would scarcely have been able to walk, and carry a heavy iron box with
him. The whole story, on reflection, seemed to me utterly incredible,
for I was not then old enough to be aware how many things happen in
this world that the common sense of the average man would set down as