“I cannot bear any more, not any more,” she said in a deep voice. “Oh, God, God! have I not borne in silence? Have I not endured these long, long months? But now, now, oh God, I cannot!”

Gregory knelt in the doorway listening.

“I do not ask for wisdom, not human love, not work, not knowledge, not for all things I have longed for,” she cried; “only a little freedom from pain! only one little hour without pain! Then I will suffer again.’

She sat up, and bit the little hand Gregory loved.

He crept away to the front door, and stood looking out at the quiet starlight. When he came back she was lying in her usual posture, the quiet eyes looking at the lion’s claw. He came close to the bed.

“You have much pain to-night?” he asked her.

“No, not much.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“No, nothing.”

She still drew her lips together, and motioned with her fingers toward the dog, who lay sleeping at her feet. Gregory lifted him and laid him at her side. She made Gregory turn open the bosom of her night-dress that the dog might put his black muzzle between her breasts. She crossed her arms over him. Gregory left them lying there together.

The next day, when they asked her how she was, she answered “Better.”

“Some one ought to tell her,” said the landlady; “we can’t let her soul go out into eternity not knowing, especially when I don’t think it was all right about the child. You ought to go and tell her, Doctor.”

So, the little doctor, edged on and on, went in at last. When he came out of the room he shook his fist in the landlady’s face.

“Next time you have any devil’s work to do, do it yourself,” he said, and shook his fist in her face again, and went away swearing.

When Gregory went into the bedroom he only found her moved, her body curled up, and drawn close to the wall. He dared not disturb her. At last, after a long time, she turned.

“Bring me food,” she said, “I want to eat. Two eggs, and toast, and meat — two large slices of toast, please.”

Wondering, Gregory brought a tray with all that she had asked for.

“Sit me up, and put it close to me,” she said; “I am going to eat it all.” She tried to draw the things near her with her fingers, and re-arranged the plates. She cut the toast into long strips, broke open both eggs, put a tiny morsel of bread into her own mouth, and fed the dog with pieces of meat put into his jaws with her fingers.

“Is it twelve o’clock yet?” she said; “I think I do not generally eat so early. Put it away, carefully please — no do not take it away — only on the table. When the clock strikes twelve I will eat it.”