'I fear so, sir! I have sent for Stephen.'

'Sent for Stephen! Am I about to die?' His voice, though feeble,
was grave and even.

'Alas! sir, I fear so!' He sank on his knees as he spoke and took
him, his second father, in his arms.

'Is it close?'

'Yes.'

'Then listen to me! If I don't see Stephen, give her my love and
blessing! Say that with my last breath I prayed God to keep her and
make her happy! You will tell her this?'

'I will! I will!' He could hardly speak for the emotion which was
choking him. Then the voice went on, but slower and weaker:

'And Harold, my dear boy, you will look after her, will you not?
Guard her and cherish her, as if you were indeed my son and she your
sister!'

'I will. So help me God!' There was a pause of a few seconds which
seemed an interminable time. Then in a feebler voice Squire Norman
spoke again:

'And Harold--bend down--I must whisper! If it should be that in time
you and Stephen should find that there is another affection between