"You are a brave, noble girl," said Dr. Mark, with much emotion,
taking the extended hand and pressing it tenderly, "but you are asking
what is impossible in this case. Do you not remember that I am an old
friend of your father's? It grieves me to the heart that his attack is
so severe that I fear all within the reach of human skill is vain."

Zell, who was a creature of impulse, and often of noblest impulse, as
we have seen, now reacted into a passion of weeping, and sank
helplessly on the floor. She was capable of heroic action, but she had
no strength for woman's lot, which is so often that of patient
endurance.

Edith came and put her arms around her, and with gentle, soothing
words, as if speaking to a child, half carried her to her room, where
she at last sobbed herself asleep.

For another hour Edith and the doctor watched alone, and the dying man
sank rapidly, going down into the darkness of death without word or
sign.

"Oh that he would speak once more!" moaned Edith.

"I fear he will not, my dear," said the doctor, pitifully.

A little later Mr. Allen was motionless, like one who has been touched
in unquiet sleep and becomes still. Death had touched him, and a
deeper sleep had fallen upon him.

One of the great daily bulletins will go to press in an hour. A
reporter jumps into a waiting hack and is driven rapidly uptown.