Once more he spoke aloud, in a strange and terrible voice, which was not his.

Every sound came with efforts that were new to him.
'My wife! Sylvie! Once more--forgive me all.' She sprang up, she kissed his poor burnt lips; she held him in her arms, she moaned, and said, 'Oh, wicked me! forgive me--me--Philip!' Then he spoke, and said, 'Lord, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive each other!' And after that the power of speech was conquered by the coming death.

He lay very still, his consciousness fast fading away, yet coming back in throbs, so that he knew it was Sylvia who touched his lips with cordial, and that it was Sylvia who murmured words of love in his ear.

He seemed to sleep at last, and so he did--a kind of sleep, but the light of the red morning sun fell on his eyes, and with one strong effort he rose up, and turned so as once more to see his wife's pale face of misery.
'In heaven,' he cried, and a bright smile came on his face, as he fell back on his pillow.
Not long after Hester came, the little Bella scarce awake in her arms, with the purpose of bringing his child to see him ere yet he passed away.

Hester had watched and prayed through the livelong night.