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WALTER BARRINGTON

Little Baby,' and she always sang that to Lily. It is like this——" He opened his mouth, but I bid him go and buy sweets, giving him a shilling, I closed the door upon him.

When I turned to Walter Barrington, his face was hidden by his hands, but through the fingers tears rolled glistening. Poor dying creature! may I never behold such grief again! What would I not have given to make peaceful the few hours that remained? I laid my hands across his thin shoulders as a woman might, and he seemed to lean towards me as if for comfort. Poor creature! so lonely, so deserted, so miserable in the grasp of death!

"Be at peace," I whispered earnestly. "Trust your children to me. I will see no one interferes, and—I understand, my poor friend, I understand."

He fell back half fainting, and I laid him upon his pillows. I sat with him till he somewhat recovered, then rose to go. As I did so, the door opened, and Agnes entered, a whirl of perfume and beauty.

"Is father better?" she said; then bent and gave him a peck of a kiss. "Oh, he is. See my card, father; I danced every dance. I'll