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The next afternoon, he was on his way to Berganton, whither Doctor Trubie was shortly to follow him.In the avenue, he met Doctor Gerrish, who, having lost all patience at Bergan's unaccountable tardiness, had finally started for home. He instantly turned back with Doctor Remy, and waited silently, with an air of deep gravity, while the latter made a brief examination of the corpse. At first sight of it, he gave a little start; and when he had finished his inspection, he stood silent and thoughtful. He had sneeringly committed a certain powder, he remembered, to the disposal of "Providence;" it struck him as a little odd that it should have been kept so long, and finally used only to put a merciful end to intense bodily and mental torture. Was there really a Power overruling the acts of men, whether good or evil, to His own purposes?�

There was a breathless silence, while Bergan held up a small, but distinct, pencil sketch to the view of the pale and trembling witness.��

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�"I have not. I only got here just before the commencement of this trial, and I have been kept too busy since to find time for the trip.""I like no one—but you. I think I might respect him in time. As for you, little one, take care you do not like him too well."

�The thought was a startling one. Much as Dick had enjoyed the certainty of the doctor's final discomfiture, he had not expected that it would come so soon; nor had he known, as now, the extent of the doctor's resources in the way of his interest or his vengeance. As he pondered the matter, he was dismayed to recognize in the false will, the Major's death, and the attempt on Bergan's life, apparent parts of the same plan, and to infer therefrom the subtle and determined character of the man whom he had ventured to try to outwit. Had he succeeded? If so, he had everything to dread from the doctor's resentment; if not—if Doctor Remy had found means to carry out his plans to the end, and cover his tracks, as he seemed to have done thus far—would he dare to open his mouth against him, only to take a share in his punishment? Right and honor were good things, but could they make a prison a pleasant abode?�

The negro did not quite understand, but made shift to guess what was meant.�

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"What have you to say against his character?" demanded Mr. Bergan, icily.�He unclasped his arms, and her bridesmaids, again clustering round her, led her upstairs in triumph.

Thus urged, Bergan could only take a seat in the carriage, and be driven off; albeit, in direct contravention of his inclinations and habits. For, although, on coming back to life and health from the borders of death, he had been quick to hear, and to heed, the plain, stern call of Duty to work while it is yet day, there had been no gracious response in his heart, as yet, to that softer voice wherewith she enjoins brotherly kindness, as well in gentle, social courtesies and amenities as in deeds of benevolence. Life had become too serious a thing, he thought, to be wasted in trifles such as these. Busy at the centre of the circle, he had lost sight of the circumference; intent upon the weightier matters of the law, he forgot the tithes of mint, anise and cummin, which yet, said the Master, ought not to be left undone. But it was a natural mistake, under the circumstances; and there was still time for him to learn that, in every well-ordered life, there is a place for little things,—little courtesies, little duties, little friends.Still she seemed not to understand. What words were at once tender and solemn enough for the full explanation? None but those of inspiration; at once old and fresh; having poured their balm all along down through the centuries, yet falling on each newly bereaved heart, as if still moist and cool with the dew of their birth. Reverently he quoted:—Rue was accordingly summoned from her faithful watch over her dead master. She declared positively that she had been with him from an early stage of his attack, until his death; and that he had taken only the medicines and food ordered by Doctor Remy, except the untimely drink of brandy, and the afore-mentioned powder. He had swallowed nothing whatever after the arrival of Mr. Arling,—not even the brandy for which he had called with almost his last breath.

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Bergan?—She dared not think of him! He was lying so dangerously ill!—yet she must not go to him;—she could trust neither her thoughts nor herself by that bedside. She must just leave him, where she left all her own cares and sorrows, in the hands of God. She waited upon Him: in His own good time and way, He would make it clear that He reigned, and that His sceptre was justice, and His crown mercy.It is odd how strong a resemblance can co-exist with perfect dissimilarity of features and complexion. Though she was very lovely—this Coralie Youle—and with a blithesome and bewitching loveliness all her own, Bergan had never been able to look upon her, nor could he see her now, without some deep, keen pain, as from an unhealed wound. There were tones in her voice which reminded him of one that he would hear no more; and she had ways and gestures which continually awakened memories not yet softened by distance into lines and tints of perfect purity and peace. And yet, what an irresistible, subtle charm in her was this very power to pain him!He unclasped his arms, and her bridesmaids, again clustering round her, led her upstairs in triumph.

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