, when she had laid down his head
again on the pillow. "Sit there, just where you are. What a burthen I
have been to you all these years, holding me up from the abyss. And
yet your eyes and your skin are like a child's. I suppose it is prayer
and quiet and honest thoughts."

"You really feel able to talk, Shawn?" she asked anxiously.

"I feel as strong as a horse at this moment. That stuff is potent.
But I had better talk while I am able. There is much I want to tell
you, Mary, and there may be no great time."

Her eyes looked at him in dumb protest, but she said not a word.

"To go back to the beginning, Mary. I have not told you all the truth
about myself and Terence. It was not the loss of my friend that
darkened my life. That would have been unnatural when I had you beside
me. It was--Mary--it was I who sent Terence Comerford to his death."

"You, Shawn! You are dreaming! There was more than the love of
brothers between you!"

"My mind is perfectly clear. You won't turn away from me when I tell
you? My need of you is bitter."

She dropped on her knees by the bed and laid her face against his hand.
She did not want him to see her eyes while he told his story.

"Nothing could make me turn away from you," she answered. "Nothing,
nothing. We are everything to each other."

"You are everything to me. But you have Terry. I am fond of Terry,
but I have only need of you. I will tell you what happened the night
Terence was killed. I had been praying and pleading with him to right
Bridyeen, for I knew that there was a baby coming. Never had I so
pleaded with any one. I remember that I sweated for sheer anguish,
although the night was cold. I don't know what possessed Terence,
unless it was the whisky. He told me to go and marry you and leave his
affairs alone. And then he laughed. A laugh can be the most terrible
and intolerable thing in the world. It maddened me. It was not only
poor Bride; but there was you. I thought he would leave Bride and her
baby and go back to you. I believed you loved him. I begged and
prayed him not to laugh, and he but laughed the louder. He said
hateful things; but it was not what he said; it was the way he laughed.
It mocked as a devil might have mocked, or I thought it did. It drove
me mad. I knew Spitfire would not take the whip and that Terence was
in no state to control her. I leant out and I lashed her with all my
strength. I can remember shoutin