went on, never noticing. She followed him
to the hall, weeping bitterly, and crying, "Come back, Don, come back!"

Without waiting to get coat or hat, he rushed out. "Go and get him,"
Helen cried to us, and we followed him as fast as we could. When I got
out he had reached the gate, and was fumbling at the catch. "Hold on,
Don, where are you going?" I cried. "To hell! to hell! to hell!" My
dear chap, that cry of his made me believe in hell; for, if lost
spirits cry when the devils get hold of them, they will cry like that.
It was the most unearthly, horrible sound I have ever heard, and may
God save me from hearing the like again.

Next day I tried to see Betty, but it was no use, she would see no one.
And soon after I heard she was ill, typhoid fever. It had been working
on her for some time. There was almost no hope from the very first. She
became delirious at once, and in her raving kept calling on The Don for
forgiveness. Your mother was a great help to them, relieving the nurse.
They all seemed to depend upon her. Of course, I was in and out every
day, and brought reports to The Don, who haunted our house day and
night. I never saw a fellow suffer like that. He slept hardly any, ate
nothing at all, but wandered about the town, spending most of his time
at Hooper's when he was not with us.

After the delirium passed Betty asked for me. When I saw her looking so
white and thin--you would think you could see through her hands--I tell
you it broke me all up. She beckoned me to her, and when I bent over
her she whispered: "Find The Don and bring him." At first her mother
refused, saying he should never come with her consent. It was mighty
hard, I tell you. But the afternoon of the same day Helen came flying
over to tell us that the doctor had said there was only a very slight
chance for Betty, and that if her mother persisted in her refusal he
would not be responsible for the consequences, that her mother had
yielded, and I was to bring The Don. I tell you, I made time down to
his rooms, and brought, him to the house.

There was no one in the room but the nurse and the doctor when he
entered. She was expecting us, and as we entered she opened her eyes
and asked, "Is he here?" The nurse beckoned him to approach, and The
Don came and knelt at her bed. He was very steady and quiet. She put
out her hand and drew him toward her. She was the calmest of us all. "I
want you to forgive me, Don," she said, and her voice was w