than I can tell you! There's neither rhyme nor reason in it that I
can see. But it's the rule of life that it should end in death.
For some the end is swift--for some it's slow--some know when it's
coming--some don't,--the last are the happiest. I've been told,
you see,--and it's no use my fighting against the fact,--a year at
the most, perhaps less, is the longest term I have of Briar Farm.
Your eyes are wet--you promised you wouldn't cry."

She furtively dashed away the drops that were shining on her
lashes. Then she forced a faint quivering smile.

"I'm not crying, Dad," she said. "There's nothing to cry for," and
she fondled his hand in her own--"The doctors are wrong. You're
only a little weak and run down--you'll be all right with rest and
care--and--and you shan't die! You shan't die! I won't let you."

He drew a long breath and passed his hand across his forehead as
though he were puzzled or in pain.

"That's foolish talk," he said, with some harshness; "You've got
trouble to meet, and you must meet it. I'm bound to show you
trouble--but I can show you a way out of it as well."

He paused a moment,--a light wind outside the lattice swayed a
branch of roses to and fro, shaking out their perfume as from a
swung censer.

"The first thing I must tell you," he went on, "is about yourself.
It's time you should know who you are."