tionless; so that, as she knelt
there, immovable beside him, her arm like alabaster across his breast,
they might have been a sculptor's group. The handkerchief was stained a
little, like the linen, and like it, too, stained but a little. Nearby,
on the floor, stood a flask of brandy and a pitcher of water.

"You!" Miss Betty's face showed no change, nor even a faint surprise,
as her eyes fell upon Tom Vanrevel, but her lips soundlessly framed the
word. "You!"

Tom flung himself on his knees beside her.

"Crailey!" he cried, in a sharp voice that had a terrible shake in it.
"Crailey! Crailey, I want you to hear me!" He took one of the limp hands
in his and began to chafe it, while Mrs. Tanberry grasped the other.

"There's still a movement in the pulse," she faltered. ..

"Still!" echoed Tom, roughly. "You're mad! You made me think Crailey
was dead! Do you think Crailey Gray is going to die? He couldn't, I tell
you--he couldn't; you don't know him! Who's gone for the doctor?" He
dashed some brandy upon his handkerchief and set it to the white lips.

"Mamie. She was here in the room with me when it happened."

"'Happened'! 'Happened'!" he mocked her, furiously. "'Happened' is a
beautiful word!"

"God forgive me!" sobbed Mrs. Tanberry. "I was sitting in the library,
and Mamie had just come from you, when we heard Mr. Carewe shout from
the cupola room: 'Stand away from my daughter, Vanrevel, and take this
like a dog!' Only that;--and Mamie and I ran to the window, and we saw
through the dusk a man in uniform leap back from Miss Betty--they were
in that little open space near the hedge. He called out something and
waved his hand, but the shot came at the same time, and he fell. Even
then I was sure, in spite of what Mamie had said, I was as sure as
Robert Carewe was, that it was you. He came and took one look--and
saw--and then Nelson brought the horses and made him mount and go. Mamie
ran for the doctor, and Betty and I carried Crailey in. It was hard
work."

Miss Betty's hand had fallen from Crailey's breast where Tom's took its
place. She rose unsteadily to her feet and pushed back the hair from her
forehead, shivering convulsively as she looked down at the motionless
figure on the sofa.

"Crailey!" said Tom, in the same angry, shaking voice. "Crailey, you've
got to rouse yourself! This won't do; you've got to be a man! Crailey!"
He was trying to force the brandy through the tightly clenched teeth.
"Crailey!"