“Edith, I am dying, they tell me. Will you come to me with Eustace?
Guy.”
PART IV.
Oh, linger by my side to-night,
The hour will soon be past
When I shall turn and gaze again
To look on thee my last.
—Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
The shaded night-lamp glimmered softly in the large, oak-paneled room where the recumbent form of a man lay extended on a large, old-fashioned bed. Heavy curtains of crimson damask were pushed back over the gilded canopy, and brought out in pale relief the white, pain-drawn face of the sufferer. The physician stood by with finger on the sick man’s wrist. An old man and his elderly wife were the only other occupants of the room.
Presently the door swung lightly ajar, and the faint light shone on the faces of Lady Edith and her brother as they crossed the room to the bedside.