I left my patient sleeping quietly,--the sleep that precedes the last. As
I went down the stairs into the hall, I saw Mrs. Poyntz standing at the
threshold, speaking to the man-servant and the nurse.

I would have passed her with a formal bow, but she stopped me.

"I came to inquire after poor Miss Brabazon," said she.

"You can tell me more than the servants can: is there no hope?"

"Let the nurse go up and watch beside her. She may pass away in the sleep
into which she has fallen."

"Allen Fenwick, I must speak with you--nay, but for a few minutes. I hear
that you leave L---- to-morrow. It is scarcely among the chances of life
that we should meet again." While thus saying, she drew me along the lawn
down the path that led towards her own home. "I wish," said she,
earnestly, "that you could part with a kindlier feeling towards me; but I
can scarcely expect it. Could I put myself in your place, and be moved by
your feelings, I know that I should be implacable; but I--"

"But you, madam, are The World! and the World governs itself, and
dictates to others, by laws which seem harsh to those who ask from its
favour the services which the World cannot tender, for the World admits
favourites, but ignores friends. You did but act to me as the World ever
acts to those who mistake its favour for its friendship."

"It is true," said Mrs. Poyntz, with blunt candour; and we continued to
walk on silently. At length she said abruptly, "But do you not rashly