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If he had expected any reward for the act, any comfort for his lonely death-bed, he received both in fullest measure when he saw Mercy’s beautiful face flush with surprise and pleasure, her eyes fill with sudden tears, and heard her cordial voice, as she pressed his hand warmly in her own.

“I wish I could tell you how glad I am for this! I thought you were better than you seemed; I was sure you had both heart and conscience, and that you would repent before you died.”

“Repent of what?” he asked, with a startled look.

“Need I tell you?” and her eye went from the empty bed to his face.

“You mean that shot? But it was only fair, after all; we killed each other, and war is nothing but wholesale murder, any way.” He spoke easily, but his eyes were full of trouble, and other words seemed to tremble on his lips.

Leaning nearer, Mercy whispered in his ear, “I mean the other murder, which you would have committed when you poisoned the cup of water he offered you, his enemy.”

Every vestige of color faded out of Clay’s thin face, and his haggard eyes seemed fascinated by some spectre opposite, as he muttered slowly, “How do you know?”

“I saw you;” and she told him all the truth.

A look of intense relief passed over Clay’s countenance, and the remorseful shadow lifted as he murmured, brokenly, “Thank God I didn’t kill him! Now, dying isn’t so hard; now I can have a little peace.”

Neither spoke for several minutes; Mercy had no words for such a time, and Clay forgot her presence as the tears dropped from between the wasted fingers spread before his face.

Presently he looked up, saying eagerly, as if his fluttering breath and rapidly failing strength warned him of approaching death, “Will you write down a few words for me, so Mary can have the money? She needn’t know anything about me, only that I was one to whom Murry was kind, and so I gave her all I had.”

“I’ll get my pen and paper; rest, now, my poor fellow,” said Mercy, wiping the unheeded tears away for him.

“How good it seems to hear you speak so to me! How can you do it?” he whispered, with such grateful wonder in his dim eyes that Mercy’s heart smote her for the past.

“I do it for Murry’s sake, and because I sincerely pity you.”

Timidly turning his lips to that kind hand, he kissed it, and then hid his face in his pillow. When Mercy returned, she observed that there were but seven tarnished buttons where she had left eight. She guessed who had taken it, but said nothing, and endeavored to render poor Clay’s last hours as happy as sympathy and care could make them. The letter and will were prepared as well as they could be, and none too soon; for, as if that secret was the burden that bound Clay’s spirit to the shattered body, no sooner was it lifted off than the diviner part seemed ready to be gone.

“You’ll stay with me; you’ll help me die; and oh, if I dared to ask it, I’d beg you to kiss me once when I am dead, as you did Murry. I think I could rest then, and be fitter to meet him, if the Lord lets me,” he cried imploringly, as the last night gathered around him, and the coming change seemed awful to a soul that possessed no inward peace, and no firm hope to lean on through the valley of the shadow.

“I will I will! Hold fast to me, and believe in the eternal mercy of God,” whispered Miss Carrol, with her firm hand in his, her tender face bending over him as the long struggle began.

“Mercy,” he murmured, catching that word, and smiling feebly as he repeated it lingeringly.”Mercy! yes, I believe in her; she’ll save me, if any one can. Lord, bless and keep her forever and forever.”

There was no morning sunshine to gladden his dim eyes as they looked their last, but the pale glimmer of the lamp shone full on the blue and the gray coats hanging side by side. As if the sight recalled that other death-bed, that last act of brotherly love and pardon, Clay rose up in his bed, and while one hand clutched the button hidden in his breast, the other was outstretched toward the empty bed, as his last breath parted in a cry of remorseful longing, “I will! I will! Forgive me, Murry, and let me say good-by!”