rl dying away as the flame had died. It was not her desire to hurt
her with that story of treachery and cowardice which must leave its
stain upon her name for many a year.

"The name of the man who shot him is a curse and a blight on this
land, a mockery of every holy human thought. I'll not speak it."

Nola stared at her, horror speaking from her eyes. "He must be a
monster!"

"He is the lowest of the accursed--a coward!" Frances said.

Nola shuddered, standing silently by the couch a little while. Then:
"But I want to help you, Frances, if you'll let me."

"There's nothing that you can do. I'm waiting for Mrs. Mathews and the
doctor from the agency."

"You can go up and rest until they come, Frances, you look so tired
and pale. I'll watch by him--you can tell me what to do, and I'll call
you when they come."

"No; I'll stay until--I'll stay here."

"Oh, please go, Frances; you're nearly dead on your feet."

"Why do you want me to leave him?" Frances asked, in a flash of
jealous suspicion. She turned to Nola, as if to search out her hidden
intention.

"You were asleep in your chair when I came in, Frances," Nola chided
her, gently.

Again they stood in silence, looking down upon the wounded man.
Frances was resentful of Nola's interest in him, of her presence in
the room. She was on the point of asking her to leave when Nola
spoke.

"If he hadn't been so proud, if he'd only stooped to explain things to
us, to talk to us, even, this could have been avoided, Frances."

"What could he have said?" Frances asked, wondering, indeed, what
explanation could have lessened his offense in Saul Chadron's eyes.

"If I had known him, I would have understood," Nola replied, vaguely,
in soft low voice, as if communing with herself.

"You! Well, perhaps--perhaps even you would have understood."

"Look--he moved!"

"Sh-h-h! your talking disturbs him, Nola. Go to bed--you can't help me
any here."

"And leave him all to you!"

The words flashed from Nola, as if they had sprung out of her mouth
before her reason had given them permission to depart.

"Of course with me; he's mine!"

"If he's going to die, Frances, can't I share him with you till the
end--can't I have just a little share in the care of him here with
you?"

Nola laid her hand on Frances' arm as she pleaded, turning her white
face appealingly in the dim light.

"Don't talk that way, girl!" said Frances, roughly; "you have no part
in him at all--