"Don't let him go away—the boy mustn't leave me now!" he said, in a terrified whisper. "Mattie—I'm worse! I have been keeping it back from the boy till the last, but I'm awfully worse."
Mattie glanced at him, and then ran to the door and called Sidney.
"I am coming back," said he, in reply; "speak to him, Mattie, for awhile. I am wanted here."
Mattie returned to the bed-side.
"He is wanted down-stairs, he says."
"Ah! don't call him up, then, Mattie—some one has heard of his cleverness, and come after him to secure him. Well, it will be a distraction to him—when—I'm gone."
"And you so ill—and I to be kept in the dark!" said Mattie, dropping into the chair at the bed's head, and looking anxiously into the haggard face.
"I have been thinking of you, Mattie," he said, in a low voice; "thinking that you might be—of use—to him in the—future."
Mattie shook her head sadly.
"Why not?" was his eager question.