whisper, "Be merciful as Christians are." He led me to the bedside, there
left me, went out, and closed the door.

"Do you think I am really dying, Dr. Fenwick?" said a feeble voice. "I
fear Dr. Jones has misunderstood my case. I wish I had called you in at
the first, but--but I could not--I could not! Will you feel my pulse?
Don't you think you could do me good?"

I had no need to feel the pulse in that skeleton wrist; the aspect of the
face sufficed to tell me that death was drawing near.

Mechanically, however, I went through the hackneyed formulae of
professional questions. This vain ceremony done, as gently and delicately
as I could, I implied the expediency of concluding, if not yet settled,
those affairs which relate to this world.

"This duty," I said, "in relieving the mind from care for others to whom
we owe the forethought of affection, often relieves the body also of many
a gnawing pain, and sometimes, to the surprise of the most experienced
physician, prolongs life itself."

"Ah," said the old maid, peevishly, "I understand! But it is not my will
that troubles me. I should not be left to a nurse from a hospital if my
relations did not know that my annuity dies with me; and I forestalled it
in furnishing this house, Dr. Fenwick, and all these pretty things will be
sold to pay those horrid tradesmen!--very hard!--so hard!--just as I got
things about me in the way I always said I would have them if I could ever
afford it! I always said I would have my bedroom hung with muslin, like
dear Lady L----'s; and the drawing-room in geranium-coloured silk: so
pretty. You have not seen it: you would not know the house, Dr. Fenwick.