ut his apologies short. "Go to your cabin, sir. I shall
not have you locked in, but, by heavens! if you attempt to go into Mr.
Clinton's cabin I'll put you in irons, Government official though you
are. I am well aware that your presence is particularly objectionable to
Mrs. Clinton."

With an evil look Bolger left them, and the surgeon, turning to
Belton, said: "That settles _him_, anyway, for a time. He's a thorough
scoundrel, I believe. Mrs. Clinton has a positive horror of the man; yet
the brute is continually pestering her with offers of his services. Now
I must go below again to poor Clinton."

In the dimly lighted cabin the young officer lay breathing heavily, and
as the doctor softly entered he saw that the time was now very near.
By her husband's side sat Marion Clinton, her loosened wavy brown hair
hiding from view her own face and the dying hand which she held pressed
to her quivering lips. At her feet, on a soft cushion on the floor, lay
her infant, with one thin waxen hand showing out from the light
shawl that covered it; at the further end of the cabin stood a young,
broad-shouldered man in grey convict garb. As the doctor entered he
stood up and saluted.

The sound of the opening door made Clinton turn his face. "Is that you,
Williams?" he said, in slow, laboured tones. "Marion, my girl, bear up.
I know I am going, old fellow. Do what you can for her, Williams. The
Governor will see to her returning to England, but it may be long before
a ship leaves.... Marion!"

"Yes," she answered brokenly.

"Is baby no better?"

"No," she answered with a sob, as she raised her tear-stained face to
Surgeon Williams, who shook his head. "There is no hope for her, Harry."

His hand pressed hers gently. "God help you, dear! Only for that it
would not be so hard to die now; and now I leave you quite alone."

She stooped down and lifted the fragile infant, and Williams and No.
267 turned their faces away for awhile. Presently Clinton called the
surgeon.

"Williams," and his eyes looked wistfully into the doctor's, "do what
you can for her. There is something like a hundred guineas among my
effects--that will help. Thank God, though, she will be a rich woman
when my poor old father dies. I am the only son."

The surgeon bent down and took his hand. "She shall never want a friend
while I live, Clinton, never."

A light of thankfulness flickered in Clinton's eyes, and the pallid lips
moved; and then as wife and fr