do not talk so. You must not leave me," she cried, in a voice of
agony. "I cannot spare you. There must be something to help you--to build
up your strength. Let us go back home, where you can have the best medical
advice."

The man sat up in his chair, stopping her with a gesture almost of
despair.

"Home!" he cried, hoarsely. "Virgie, we have no home but this. You know
that I am already the same as dead to every one but you; that even our
real name is sunk in oblivion."

"But, papa, you must try to live for my sake," Virgie cried, clasping her
trembling hands about his emaciated arm, and shuddering as she felt how
frail it was. "If you will not go back, let me at least send for Dr.
Truel. He is skillful. He was always our friend. He will cheer you and
give you something to build you up, and he will keep our secret, too. Oh,
you ought to have had advice long ago. What shall I do in this dreary
place if you leave me alone?"

The sick man unclasped her clinging hands from his arm, and drew her
slight form to him in a tender embrace.

"My darling," he said, fondly, "that is just what I wish to talk with you
about; so calm yourself and listen to me. Neither Dr. Truel, nor any other
doctor, can help me now; if I had called him a year ago he might have
prolonged my life; but my pride would not let me face any one whom I had
ever known. But I will not speak of the past; it is too familiar and
painful to both of us. It is useless, however, for me to think for a
moment of going back, even to die, in the home where we were once so
happy, for only disgrace is connected with our name--disgrace and wrong,
all the more keenly felt because unmerited."

"Hush, Virgie!" he continued, as a shuddering sob burst from the breast
pressed so closely to his, "you must not give way so. I did not mean to
alarm you unnecessarily by what I have said; I may not leave you for some
time yet. I may be spared for a few months, perhaps until autumn, but I
feel that the time has come to arrange some definite plan for your future.
I must, however, give up my work, for I have no longer strength to carry
it on; but if there was only some one whom I could trust to take charge
of my claim. I might even yet reap something of benefit from it to add to
the hoard that I have been saving for you against this emergency."

"But, papa, I would much rather that you should spend every dollar that
you have, if it would prolong your life; if I lose you, I have no