dying man." Ah! sweet, beautiful, blind fallacy—could he not let it be?
The end was very near; the delirium passed away, and Stephen Orry opened his eyes. The great creature was as quiet as a child now, and as soft and gentle as a child's was his deep, hoarse voice. He knew that he had been wandering in his mind, and when he looked into Jason's face a pale smile crossed his own.
"I thought I had found her," he said very simply, "my poor young wife that once was; it was she that I lost so long ago, and did such wrong by."
Jason's throat was choking him, but he stammered out, "Lie still, sir; lie still and rest."
But Stephen Orry talked on in the same simple way. "Ah, how silly I am! I forgot you didn't know."
"Lie still and rest," said Jason again.
"There was some one with her too. I thought it was her son—her child and mine, that was to come when I left her. And only think, I looked again and it seemed to be you. Yes, you—for it was the face of him that fetched me out of the sea. I thought you were my son indeed."
Then Jason could bear up no longer. He flung himself down on his knees by the bedside, and buried his face in the dying man's breast.
"Father," he sobbed, "I am your son."
But Stephen Orry only smiled, and answered very quietly, "Ah, yes, I remember—that was part of our bargain, my good lad. Well, God bless you, my son. God bless and speed you."
And that was the end of Orry.
End of the Book of Stephen Orry.
