a traitor!"

[Illustration: 380]

As though the effort had exhausted all "his strength, his arms dropped
as he said the words; his head fell forward, and he would have fallen to
the ground had not the old General caught him in his arms.

"You are too weak, too ill for all this, my poor fellow." said the
Count, as he held the boy's hand in his own, and gazed affectionately at
him.

"True, ever true," muttered the youth, with half-closed lids.

"I will hear all this when you are better, Frank; when you are strong,
and able to declare it manfully and openly. I will bless you, with my
heart's warmest blessing, for the words that restore us both to fair
fame and honor; but you must not speak more now."

The boy bent his head in token of submission, but never spoke.

"It will be the proudest hour of my life, Frank, when you can throw off
this reproach, and stand forth a thorough Dalton, unshaken in truth and
honor. But, to do this, you must be calm and quiet now,--not speak, nor
even think of these things. You shall remain with me."

Here the boy's tears fell upon the old man's hand. For a second or two
not a word was spoken. At last he went on,----

"Yes; you shall not leave me from this hour. Our fortunes are the same.
With you it remains to show that we are worthy soldiers of our Kaiser."

Frank pressed the old Count's hand upon his heart, as though to call its
very pulses to bear witness to his fealty. This simple action seemed to
have exhausted his last energy, for he now sank back in his chair and
fainted.

The excitement he had gone through appeared to have utterly prostrated
him, for he now lay for hours motionless and unconscious. Except a
heavy sigh at long intervals, he gave no sign of life; and the surgeons,
having exhausted all their resources to stimulate him, gave but faint
hope of his recovery. They who only knew the old Count as the stern
soldier, bold, abrupt, and peremptory, could not conceive by what magic
he had been changed into a mould of almost womanly tenderness. There was
no care he did not bestow on the sick youth. The first surgeons of the
Staff were sent for, and all that skill and affection could suggest were
enlisted in his service. The case, however, was of gloomy presage. It
was the relapse fever after a wound, aggravated by mental causes of deep
influence.

The greatest sympathy was felt for the old Count's position. His
comrades came or sent frequently to him. Kind messages rea