“Aha, you see I know most things,” he said, “Edward 'll poison me yet. You see, he 's in a fix. He hankers after this house same as I always hankered after it. It 's about the only taste we have in common. He 's got his own house on a seven years' lease, and here 's Nick Anderson going to be married, and willing to take it off his hands. And what 's Edward to do? It 's a terrible anxiety for him not knowing if I 'm going to die or not. If he does n't accept Nick's offer and I die, he 'll have two houses on his hands. If he accepts it and I don't die, he 'll not have a house at all. It 's a sad dilemma for Edward. That 's why he would enjoy seeing about my funeral so much. He 'd do it all very handsomely. Edward likes things handsome. And Mary, who does n't care a jot for me, will wear a black dress that don't suit her, and feel like a Christian martyr. And Elizabeth won't wear black at all, though she cares a good many jots, and though she 'd look a deal better in it than Mary-eh, David?”

But David Blake was exclaiming at the lateness of the hour, and saying good-night, all in a breath.

CHAPTER II. DAVID BLAKE

Grey, grey mist

Over the old grey town,

A mist of years, a mist of tears,

Where ghosts go up and down;

And the ghosts they whisper thus, and thus,

Of the days when the world went with us.

A MINUTE or two later Elizabeth Chantrey came into the room. She was a very tall woman, with a beautiful figure. All her movements were strong, sure, and graceful. She carried a lighted lamp in her left hand. Mr. Mottisfont abominated electric light and refused obstinately to have it in the house. When Elizabeth had closed the door and set down the lamp, she crossed over to the window and fastened a heavy oak shutter across it. Then she sat down by the bed.