needs of it, into taking sugar instead of bread, and weakening your
stomach and your understanding. 'Tis best for you and best for me,
and best for those that might come after us. Treasure of house and
land and fine apparel and furnishings may be a goodly inheritance,
but our heirs would thank us more for power to draw the breath of
life freely, and you would do better without a gown to your back, or
a shoe to your foot, and a mate that was not half a dead man; and I
should do better alone in my anteroom of the tomb than with another
life to disturb the peace of it, and rouse me to efforts which will
send me farther on."

Madelon had stared at him, not knowing what to say, with compassion,
and yet with growing conviction of his selfish ends, which disturbed
it.

Lot tapped his chest again. "My lungs are gone," he said, shortly; "I
need no doctor to tell me. I know enough of physics myself to send
the whole village stumbling, instead of racing, into their graves, if
I choose to use it. My lungs are gone, and you are well quit of me,
and I of a foolish undertaking, though of a charming bride. Now, go
your way, child, and take up your maiden dreams again, for all me."

Madelon looked at him proudly, although she was half dazed by what
she heard. "I care nothing for all the fine things you have shown
me," said she, "and I have told you truly always that I do not care
for you, but I will keep my promise to marry you unless you yourself
bid me to break it."

"I bid you to break it," said Lot, steadily, and his eyes met hers,
and his old mocking smile played over his white face. Then suddenly
he bent over with his racking cough, and Madelon made a step towards
him, but he motioned her away. "Good-night--child," he gasped out.

Then Madelon had gone home and told her father and brothers, and
thought their strange reception of the news due to anything but the
truth. She had told them that she was guilty of wounding Lot Gordon
almost to death. That they should now be rendered uneasy by
suspicions, when she had given them actual knowledge, was something
beyond her imagination. She fancied rather that they considered Lot
had treated her badly, or else that she had a longing love for Burr,
and, perhaps, had herself broken off her match with his cousin on
that account. She strove hard to bear herself in such a manner that
they should not think that. She put on as gay a face as she could
muster, and even took, beside the dress