y of
those details the very least of which might determine his future lot.

The instructions drawn up for the defence were sadly in need of the sort of
information which the sick man alone could supply; and Nina and Kate had
both been entreated to watch for the first favourable moment that should
present itself, and ask certain questions, the answers to which would be of
the last importance.

Though Gill's affidavit gave many evidences of unscrupulous falsehood,
there was no counter-evidence to set against it, and O'Shea's counsel
complained strongly of the meagre instructions which were briefed to him in
the case, and his utter inability to construct a defence upon them.

'He said he would tell me something this evening, Kate,' said Nina; 'so, if
you will let me, I will go in your place and remind him of his promise.'

This hopeful sign of returning intelligence was so gratifying to Kate that
she readily consented to the proposition of her cousin taking her 'watch,'
and, if possible, learning something of his wishes.

'He said it,' continued Nina, 'like one talking to himself, and it was not
easy to follow him. The words, as well as I could make out, were, "I will
say it to-day--this evening, if I can. When it is said"--here he muttered
something, but I cannot say whether the words were, "My mind will be at
rest," or "I shall be at rest for evermore."'

Kate did not utter a word, but her eyes swam, and two large tears stole
slowly down her face.

'His own conviction is that he is dying,' said Nina; but Kate never spoke.

'The doctors persist,' continued Nina, 'in declaring that this depression
is only a well-known symptom of the attack, and that all affections of the
brain are marked by a certain tone of despondency. They even say more, and
that the cases where this symptom predominates are more frequently followed
by recovery. Are you listening to me, child?'

'No; I was following some thoughts of my own.'

'I was merely telling you why I think he is getting better.'

Kate leaned her head on her cousin's shoulder, and she did not speak. The
heaving motion of her shoulders and her chest betrayed the agitation she
could not subdue.

'I wish his aunt were here; I see how her absence frets him. Is she too ill
for the journey?' asked Nina.

'She says not, and she seems in some way to be coerced by others; but a
telegram this morning announces she would try and reach Kilgobbin this
evening.'

'What could coe