short months to stay on earth."

"Netta!" he cried, and his voice was wild and strange.

"Yes, it is true," she said, simply--"it is quite true; but you came
like sunshine to my poor dark life, and I could not help it--I thought
you loved me."

"And I do, my child, dearly, as I would a sister!" he exclaimed,
passionately, as he raised her up, and kissed her forehead. "Netta, I
would have given my right hand sooner than have caused you pain."

"Don't blame yourself," she said, softly, extricating herself from his
arms; "I should have known better. Take me home--take me home!"

She caught at his arm after trying to walk alone, and looked pitifully
in his face.

"You see," she whispered, "it was a dream--a dream; but so bright, and
now--"

She reeled, and would have fallen but for the strong arm flung round
her; and Richard held her for a few moments till she recovered.

"Richard," she whispered, sadly, "forgive me if I was unmaidenly and
bold; but it seemed so short a time that I should be here, that I could
not act as others do. But take me home--take me home."

She seemed half fainting, and raised he handkerchief to her lips, to
take it down stained with blood. Then, shuddering slightly, she turned
her face to his, smile faintly, and laid one little thin hand upon his
breast, before hanging almost inanimate upon his arm.

Richard uttered a groan as he raised her in his arms, and bore her
rapidly into the lane, where, at the distance of a hundred yards, stood
the cab, with Batty grazing comfortably, and Sam Jenkles dozing on his
box.

"Taken ill--quick!" gasped Richard, as he lifted his burden into the
vehicle. "Quick--London--the first doctor's."

Volume 3, Chapter X.

THE USE OF MONEY.

That evening Frank Pratt was busily preparing himself for a City dinner,
when Richard rushed panting into the room, haggard, his face covered
with perspiration, and a look of despair in his eyes that frightened his
friend.

"Why, Dick, old man," he cried, catching his hands, "what is it?"

"Money, Frank--give me money--ten--twenty--fifty pounds; doctors--
doctors. I've killed her--killed her!" he groaned.

Pratt asked no questions, but unlocking a desk, he took out and placed
five crisp bank notes in his friend's hand.

"I knew you would," panted Richard. "God bless you, Frank! Best
doctor--consumption?"

"Morley, Cavendish Square," said Pratt, with sharp brevity.

Then waving his hand, Richard dashed f