tand it, go out
into the hail while I thresh this matter out with Taylor!" But Evelyn
did not leave her place at his bedside.

"You must not excite yourself!" said Taylor.

"Humph--if you won't tell me what I wish to know, I'll tell you my
opinion; it is that I am not going to recover. I must see Moxlow. Who is
down-stairs?"

"Colonel Harbison and his nephew."

"Ask Watt to find Moxlow and bring him here. He's probably at his
boarding-house."

He spoke with painful effort, and the doctor glanced uncertainly at
Evelyn, who by a slight inclination of the head indicated that she
wished her husband's request complied with. Taylor quitted the room.

"Why do you wish to see Moxlow?" Evelyn asked the moment they were
alone.

"I want him here; I may wish to tell him something--and I may not, it
all depends," he said slowly, as his heavy lids closed over his tired
eyes.

It was daylight without, and there was the occasional sound of wheels in
the street. Evelyn realized with a sudden sense of shock that unless
Marshall's bloodless lips opened to tell his secret, but a few hours of
life remained to John North.

A struggle was going on within her, it was a struggle that had never
ceased from the instant she first entered the room. One moment she found
she could pray that Marshall might speak; and the next terror shook her
lest he would, and declare North's innocence and his own guilt. She
slipped from his bedside and stealing to the window parted the long
curtains with trembling hands. She felt widely separated in spirit from
her husband; he seemed strangely indifferent to her; only his bitter
sense of injury and hurt remained, his love had become a dead thing,
since his very weakness carried him beyond the need of her. She belonged
to his full life and there was nothing of tenderness and sympathy that
survived. A slight noise caused her to turn from the window. Marshall
was endeavoring to draw himself higher on his pillow.

"Here--lift me up--" he gasped, as she ran to his side.

She passed an arm about him and did as he desired.

"That's better--" he panted.

"Shall I call the doctor?"

He shook his head and, as she withdrew her arm, lay back weak and
shaken.

"I tell you I am hurt internally!" he said.

"Let me call the doctor!" she entreated.

"What can he do?"

"Marsh, if you believe this--" she began.

"You're thinking of him!" he snarled.

"I am thinking of you, Marsh!"

"He threw you over for