r. She staggered across the hall, and
then, with a moan of misery and horror at the sight, threw herself upon
her knees, not beside the sofa where Burnham lay gasping, but on the
floor where lay our poor old corporal. In an instant she had his head in
her lap and was crooning over the senseless clay, swaying her body to
and fro as she piteously called to him,--

"Frank, Frank! Oh, for the love of Jesus, speak to me! Frank, dear
Frank, my husband, my own! Oh, for God's sake, open your eyes and look
at me! I wasn't as wicked as they made me out, Frank, God knows I
wasn't. I tried to get back to you, but Pierce there swore you were
dead,--swore you were killed at Cieneguilla. Oh, Frank, Frank, open your
eyes! _Do_ hear me, husband. O God, don't let him die! Oh, for pity's
sake, gentlemen, can't you do something? Can't you bring him to? He must
hear me! He must know how I've been lied to all these years!"

"Quick! Take this and see if you can bring him round," said Gleason,
tossing me his flask. I knelt and poured the burning spirit into his
open mouth. There were a few gurgles, half-conscious efforts to swallow,
and then--success. He opened his glazing eyes and looked up into the
face of his wife. His lips moved and he called her by name. She raised
him higher in her arms, pillowing his head upon her bosom, and covered
his face with frantic kisses. The sight seemed too much for "Burnham."
His face worked and twisted with rage; he ground out curses and
blasphemy between his clinched teeth; he even strove to rise from the
sofa, but Gleason forced him back. Meantime, the poor woman's wild
remorse and lamentations were poured into the ears of the dying man.

"Tell me you believe me, Frank. Tell me you forgive me. O God! you don't
know what my life has been with him. When I found out that it was all a
lie about your being killed at Cieneguilla, he beat me like a slave. He
had to go and fight in the war. They made him; they conscripted him; and
when he got back he brought me papers to show you were killed in one of
the Virginia battles. I gave up hope then for good and all."

Just then who should come springing down the stairs but Baker, who had
evidently been calming and soothing his lady-love aloft. He stepped
quickly into the parlor.

"Have you sent for a surgeon?" he asked.

The sound of his voice seemed to rouse "Burnham" to renewed life and
raging hate.

"Surgeons be damned!" he gasped. "I'm past all surgery; but th