“Dead!” I echoed faintly, for I almost doubted whether my ears heard aright.  “My little old gentleman dead?  Oh, I am very, very grieved indeed!  I fancied he was getting so much stronger!”

Dr. Peyton smiled, one of his peculiar, sweet, grave smiles, such as I had often seen on his kindly face at certain times and seasons when other men would not have smiled at all.

“Lizzie,” he answered, ’there are some deaths so beautiful and so full of peace, that no one ought to grieve about them, for they bring eternal rest after a life that has been only bitter disquiet and heaviness.  And such a death—­aye, and such a life—­were Mr Gray’s.”

He spoke so certainly and so calmly, that I felt comforted for the little old man’s sake, and longed to know,—­woman-like, I suppose,—­ what sad story of his this had been, to which Dr. Peyton’s words seemed to point.

“Then he had a romance after all!” I cried, “and you knew of it!  Poor old gentleman!  I often wondered how he came to be so lonely.  May you tell me, as we sit here together?  I should so like to hear about it.”

“Yes,” said he, with that same peculiar smile, “I may tell you, for it is no secret now.  Indeed, I came here partly for that very purpose, because I know well how much you were interested in your opposite neighbor, and how you used to speculate about his antecedents and associations.  But I have not known this story long.  He only told it me this evening; just an hour or two before he died.  Well, we all have our little romances, as you are pleased to call them!”

“Yes, yes, all of us.  Even I, unpretentious, plain Elizabeth Fairleigh,—­but no matter.”  I mind me, reader, that I promised not to talk of my own experiences.  Ah, there are no such phenomena in the world really, as “commonplace” lives, and “commonplace” persons!

“Poor little old man!” I sighed again.  “Did he tell you his story then of his own accord, or”—­And I paused in some embarrassment, for I remembered that Dr. Peyton was a true gentleman, and possessed of far too much delicacy of feeling to question anybody upon personal matters or private concerns.  But either he did not actually notice my hesitation, or perhaps understood the cause of it well enough to prevent him from appearing to notice it, for he resumed at once, as though no interruption to his discourse had taken place.

“When I went this afternoon to visit your neighbor, Lizzie, I perceived immediately from the change in him that the end was not far off, though I did not think it would come today.  But he did.  He was in bed when I entered his room, and as soon as he saw me, he looked up and welcomed me with a pleasant smile and said, `Ah, Doctor, I am so glad you are come!  I was just going to send round for you!  Not that I think you can do me any more good upon earth, for I know that tonight I shall go to my long rest.  To my long rest.’