"I don't want him; I want you, Mamma—I want you!"
The mother sighed wearily and the alert nurse advanced and said to the child in grave, cold tones:
"You must control yourself, Miss Alora, if you wish to remain."
The threat quieted the little girl at once.
"I'll be good, Mamma Tone," she whispered softly. "Talk to me, and tell me what I must do."
So the dying woman talked to her, not of herself, but of Alora's father, and of how she would like her child to conduct herself while she grew in womanhood. She spoke of her will, and told Lory what it meant to her and how she had safe-guarded her interests as well as she was able. To this Lory listened intently and, although she still trembled at times, she had Tony Seaver's blood in her veins and could be brave in spite of the terrors that faced her. Dimly she realized that her mother was suffering through the knowledge of their inevitable parting, even as Alora was suffering, and felt she could comfort that beloved mother more by controlling her grief bravely than by giving way to it in her mother's presence.
Meantime, Dr. Anstruther had returned to his office and had written and dispatched the following telegram:
"Jason Jones,
1744 East 67th St.,
New York City.
"Your wife is dying at the Hotel Voltaire and wishes reconciliation before she passes away. Come quickly, as any delay may prove dangerous. Notify me by wire when to expect you.
Edward Anstruther, M. D."
He left orders that the answer be delivered to him at his office or residence, as soon as received, but the day and the night passed without a word from Jason Jones. Dr. Anstruther telephoned the telegraph office and was assured his message had been delivered to the party in New York, as otherwise they would be notified to that effect.
Knowing Mrs. Jones' dangerous condition, the good doctor was worried, but the following morning brought the delayed answer: