the carpet, when she was roused by his
voice calling to her gently. His senses
had come back. She flew to his side. He
asked the conventional questions, "Had he
been long ill?—had he been very bad?—
what had been his illness?" Then with
some hesitation, "Had he lost his senses?—
had he raved or talked?"

"No, dearest, no; not a sentence."

"Not a word, Jessica?"

"Not a word."

"I am glad. I am satisfied. And the
doctors—do they give me over? Come.
You know me well, Jessica. Disguise to
me would only have the effect of telling
the naked truth to a weak mind."

She knew this, and she told him.

"I hope so—I trust so," he said, with a
sigh. " If my old ill luck does not come
in the way to force me to live on and bear
my burden."

She dropped on her knees beside him.
"But why burden?" she said; "oh, let us
be happy again! Lay it down now, and be
well once more. Tell me here, at this
moment, what it is. Have I to do with
it? Tell me."

"It is no use now," he said. "The
judges have sentenced me, and I shall be
out of the way. You will be free then.
You have seen some change in me? Well,
let us put that down to the same cause."

"What! and leave me," said Jessica,
passionately, "without this explained, as
though I had done some crime—some
injury to you. Not a word; not a look even.
Oh, how cruel and unjust!"

He grew excited. "I can tell nothing
now, for I know nothing. Later, if I live.
—Ask your conscience then. I mean," he
added, hurriedly, "there is no use now
in dealing with it. If I have been wrong
or mistaken I cannot cure it now. But I
have not been. What are all these letters?
Read them out for me, and put me in
communion with the world again!"

Fearful of exciting him she did so. They
were a motley collection. One was from her
father. There was an archdeaconry really
about to be vacant. "Surely something
could be done now. Strange that with this
much-talked-of interest some trifling exertion
could not be made. He must really
ask Conway to try and put his shoulder to
the wheel." With more in this strain he
passed on to St. Arthur's. "This place is
going to the dogs. I am sick of it. They
are wretched creatures—not fit for gentlemen
to be with. And but for the season
time I should not be an hour here. I
suppose you have heard about the man
Dudley. He went off on some mad
outlandish excursion in India, and was torn in
pieces by a tiger. A most rude, ill-conditioned
fellow."

"Dudley dead!" said the patient, starting
up. "What! gone and left me in this
way. Nothing certain—nothing known;
and I may die without anything known or
anything certain. Oh, Jessica, Jessica!"
he added, turning on her. "What are you?
What have you been?"

"Then you do suspect something of me?
And I knew this man was my enemy.
Tell me all now. I am entitled to it."

He paused. "Yes. I must be just, and
at such a time as this, I ought to tell you;
and as Dudley is gone, who was to bring
all home——"

"To me?"

"Yes, Jessica, you deceived me. You
were with that girl at her death; you
alone, and no one else! Deny it if you
dare."

She saw it all now. "I do not deny it,"
she faltered.

"No, you could not. You heard me
again and again speculate over that poor
victim's last moments, wonder how strange
and mysterious it all was. Yet you never
spoke. Never."

"I own it. But——"

"You cannot deny it. It came up again
and again. Dudley had his suspicions, and
named them. You still said nothing. He
raised mine. You still said nothing.
Jessica, there was a reason for that
silence!"

"There was," she went on, hurriedly,
"and if you would only listen——"

"Never. I have done more than I
meant in telling you so much. I tell you
this solemnly, Jessica: no explanation,
however ingenious, could clear it up for
me now. I shall die believing what I
believe——"

"O God!" she started back. "You do
not suppose that—— Oh, that would be
too horrible!"

"Yes. You were with her, and were
seen with her. Your quarrel, your angry
voice, and your threats, were heard. There
were two witnesses. Dudley one——"

"To what—to what?" she repeated. "Oh,
does any one say I had to do with her death?
Oh, not you. In Heaven's name there is
no thought of that in your mind?"

He was silent.

"Speak, or this will kill me."

"What can you deny of all this; the
quarrel, or the threats? But denial could
do nothing."