and his manuscript. But he seemed troubled, irresolute, weak, and at
last he blew out a volley of oaths, with no apparent appropriateness,
and then seemed to be communing with himself.

"It is of no use to carry this on any further," said he, fiercely, in a
decided tone, as if he had taken a resolution. "Elsie, my girl, come
and kiss me."

So Elsie kissed him, amid all the tobacco-smoke which was curling out
of his mouth, as if there were a half-extinguished furnace in his
inside.

"Elsie, my little girl, I mean to die to-day," said the old man.

"To die, dear Doctor Grim? O, no! O, no!"

"O, yes! Elsie," said the Doctor, in a very positive tone. "I have kept
myself alive by main force these three weeks, and I find it hardly
worth the trouble. It requires so much exercise of will;--and I am
weary, weary. The pipe does not taste good, the brandy bewilders me.
Ned is gone, too;--I have nothing else to do. I have wrought this many
a year for an object, and now, taking all things into consideration, I
don't know whether to execute it or no. Ned is gone; there is nobody
but my little Elsie,--a good child, but not quite enough to live for. I
will let myself die, therefore, before sunset."

"O, no! Doctor Grim. Let us send for Ned, and you will think it worth
the trouble of living."

"No, Elsie, I want no one near my death-bed; when I have finished a