ing my time here at present, but I will look in about ten to-morrow.”
“You can’t prescribe anything?”
“Quite useless,” replied the doctor, decisively. “You take a special interest in him?”
“He was an old college friend of mine, poor fellow. It is more than eight years since I saw him, but I could not have believed such a change possible.”
The doctor made a few sympathetic remarks, bowed, and ran down stairs as quickly as he had come up. Mr. Norman tried once more to awaken the dying man to consciousness, but with no immediate result. So he turned his attention to the child, who still sat in the same place sobbing quietly.
“Is that your father?” he asked the boy, scanning the haggard features of his face with nervous glances.
The child sobbed out an affirmative reply, but no more. At this moment the sick man stirred slightly, and Mr. Norman saw his eyes slowly open.
“Golding!” ho exclaimed, kneeling down by his side. “Do you see me? Do you know me?”
For some minutes no sign of consciousness manifested itself; but then the man made obvious efforts to speak. His face was dreadfully distorted in the struggle for breath, but no sound escaped him save a
