from the thick bush, looked
with great, red eyes, and then fled from him with loathing. And,
suddenly, he came upon another mound near the banks of a great river.
And over it stood a rude cross; and on the cross he read the dim,
penciled word, _Dolores_. Ah, God! how he cried out for the oblivion
that was not his. But the ghastly mound froze his blood, and he rushed
from it in terror, and fell, whirling over and over, down, down into
eternal blackness filled with dying men's groans!

The awful day drew to a close. The exhausted attendants stood about
the bed with bated breath. The physicians had called Doctor Morton in
consultation, for the latter was a brain specialist. And while they
sat gazing at the crazed, stricken giant, hopelessly struggling to
lift the inert mass of his dead body, Reverend Darius Borwell entered.
He bowed silently to them all; then went to the bedside and took the
patient's hand. A moment later he turned to the physicians and
nurses.

"Let us ask God's help for Mr. Ames," he said gravely.

They bowed, and he knelt beside the bed and prayed long and earnestly;
prayed that the loving Father who had made man in His image would take
pity on the suffering one who lay there, and, if it be His will, spare
him for Jesus' sake.

He arose from his knees, and they all sat quiet for some moments. Then
Doctor Morton's heavy voice broke the silence of death. "Mr. Borwell,"
he said in awful earnestness, extending his hand toward the bed, "cure
that man, if your religion is anything more than a name!"

A hot flush of indignation spread over the minister's face; but he did
not reply. Doctor Morton turned to the physicians.

"Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "Mr. Ames, I think, is past our aid.
There is nothing on earth that can save him. If he lives, he will be
hopelessly insane." He hesitated, and turned to a maid. "Where is his
daughter Kathleen?" he asked.

"Upstairs, sir, in her apartments," answered the maid, wiping her red
eyes.

"See that she remains there," said the doctor gruffly. "Gentlemen,"
turning again to the physicians, "I have but one suggestion. Send
for--for--that little girl, Carmen."

"It is ill-advised, Doctor," interrupted one of the men. "It would
only further excite him. It might hasten the end."

"I do not agree with you," returned Doctor Morton. "As it is, he is
doomed. With her here--there may be a chance."

The others shook their heads; but Doctor Morton persisted stubbornl