excite
yourself."

In her paroxysm she rolled down on the stone floor, and he stooped in
consternation and picked her up. He rested his foot on the ledge where
she had sat, and held her upon his knee. She struggled for breath until
he thought she would die, and the sweat of terror stood on his forehead.
When he had watched her by the bonfire, his medical knowledge gave her
barely two months of life; and within those two months, he had also told
himself bitterly then, Rice Jones could marry Angelique Saucier; but to
have her die alone with him in this old building was what he could not
contemplate.

Scarcely conscious of his own action, the doctor held her in positions
which helped her, and finally had the relief of hearing her draw a free
breath as she lapsed against his shoulder. Even a counterfeit tie of
marriage has its power. He had lived with this woman, she believing
herself his lawful wife. Their half-year together had been the loftiest
period of his life. The old feeling, smothered as it was under
resentment and a new passion, stirred in him. He strained her to his
breast and called her the pet names he used to call her. The diminutive
being upon his knee heard them without response. When she could speak
she whispered,--

"Set me down."

Dr. Dunlap moved his foot and placed her again on the stone ledge. She
leaned against the wall. There was a ringing in her ears. The
unpardonable sin in man is not his ceasing to love you. That may be a
mortal pain, but it has dignity. It is the fearful judgment of seeing in
a flash that you have wasted your life on what was not worth the waste.

"Now if you are composed, Maria," said Dr. Dunlap hurriedly, "I will say
what I followed you here to say. The best thing for us to do, now that I
am free to do it, is to have the marriage ceremony repeated over us and
made valid. I am ready and willing. The only drawback is the prejudice
of your family against me."

A magnanimous tone in his voice betrayed eagerness to put the Joneses
under obligations to him.

"Dr. Dunlap,"--when Maria had spoken his name she panted awhile,--"when
I found out I was not your wife, and left you, I began then to cough.
But now--we can never be married."

"Why, Maria?"

She began those formidable sounds again, and he held his breath.

Somebody in the distance began playing a violin. Its music mingled with
the sounds which river-inclosed lands and the adjacent dwellings of men
send up in a su