a year afterwards, but hardly a
soul knows it to this day; and those that do don't care about bringing
themselves into public notice. They'll prefer hush-money, if they find
out what she's up to now. The prison register would prove it directly.
But Dare will never find it out. How should he?"

Raymond sank back speechless and panting. A strong shudder passed over
him, and his breath seemed to fail.

"It's coming," he whispered, hoarsely. "That lying doctor said I had
several hours, and I feel it coming already."

"Danvers," he continued, hurriedly, "are you still there?" Then, as
Charles bent over him, "Closer; bend down. I want to see your face. Keep
your own counsel about Dare. There's no one to tell if you don't. He's
not fit for Ruth. You can marry her now. I saw what I saw. She'll take
you. And some day--some day, when you have been married a long time,
tell her I'm dead; and tell her--about Flavell, and how I owned to
it--but that I did not do it. I never sank so low as that." His voice
had dropped to a whisper which died imperceptibly away.

"I will tell her," said Charles; and Raymond turned his face to the
wall, and spoke no more.

The struggle had passed, and for the moment death held aloof; but his
shadow was there, lying heavy on the deepening twilight, and darkening
all the little room. Raymond seemed to have sunk into a stupor, and at
last Charles rose silently and went out.

He was dimly conscious of meeting some one in the passage, of answering
some question in the negative, and then he found himself gathering up
the reins, and driving through the narrow lighted streets of D---- in
the dusk, and so away down the long flat high-road to Atherstone.

A white mist had risen up to meet the darkness, and had shrouded all the
land. In sweeps and curves along the fields a gleaming pallor lay of
heavy dew upon the grass, and on the road the long lines of dim water in
the ruts reflected the dim sky.

Carts lumbered past him in the darkness once or twice, the men in them
peering back at his reckless driving; and once a carriage with lamps
came swiftly up the road towards him, and passed him with a flash,
grazing his wheel. But he took no heed. Drive as quickly as he would
through mist and darkness, a voice followed him, the voice of a pursuing
devil close at his ear, whispering in the halting, feeble utterance of a
dying man:

"Keep your own counsel about Dare. There is no one to tell if you
don't."