Not a murmur escaped her lips as she sat for hours watching the quickening breath in death-like struggle, convulsing the almost lifeless form of one who had ever been kind, dutiful, loving, and true to his vow.
On his death-bed, Gerald Bereford felt no pangs of remorse devouring his latest thoughts.

He could die in the belief of having been ever devoted to her whom he had promised to love, cherish and protect.

Keenly did Lady Rosamond feel this reflection.

Had her husband been less kind, generous and true, she could have borne the present with a firmness worthy of her spirit.

But the thoughts that now filled her breast were maddening, merciless and torturing.
"What have I done to suffer so much through life," was the mental question ever uppermost.
Gerald Bereford had fought the battle of life bravely.