o visit some friends at Folkestone. In making this reply,
she looked at Romayne. "I am afraid he is very ill," she said, in gently
lowered tones. Before I could answer, her mother turned to her with an
expression of surprise, and directed her attention to the friends whom
she had mentioned, waiting to greet her. Her last look, as they took
her away, rested tenderly and sorrowfully on Romayne. He never returned
it--he was not even aware of it. As I led him to the train he leaned
more and more heavily on my arm. Seated in the carriage, he sank at once
into profound sleep.

We drove to the hotel at which my friend was accustomed to reside when
he was in London. His long sleep on the journey seemed, in some degree,
to have relieved him. We dined together in his private room. When the
servants had withdrawn, I found that the unhappy result of the duel was
still preying on his mind.

"The horror of having killed that man," he said, "is more than I can
bear alone. For God's sake, don't leave me!"

I had received letters at Boulogne, which informed me that my wife
and family had accepted an invitation to stay with some friends at
the sea-side. Under these circumstances I was entirely at his service.
Having quieted his anxiety on this point, I reminded him of what
had passed between us on board the steamboat. He tried to change
the subject. My curiosity was too strongly aroused to permit this; I
persisted in helping his memory.

"We were looking into the engine-room," I said; "and you asked me what I
heard there. You promised to tell me what _you_ heard, as soon as we got
on shore--"

He stopped me, before I could say more.

"I begin to think it was a delusion," he answered. "You ought not to
interpret too literally what a person in my dreadful situation may say.
The stain of another man's blood is on me--"

I interrupted him in my turn. "I refuse to hear you speak of yourself
in that way," I said. "You are no more responsible for the Frenchman's
death than if you had been driving, and had accidentally run over him in
the street. I am not the right companion for a man who talks as you do.
The proper person to be with you is a doctor." I really felt irritated
with him--and I saw no reason for concealing it.

Another man, in his place, might have been offended with me. There was a
native sweetness in Romayne's disposition, which asserted itself even in
his worst moments of nervous irritability. He took my hand.

"Don't