and--I have not told him
about Burrill."

A look of contrition came into the mother's face. Evan had kept his room
for days, but, in her anxiety for her dearest child, she had quite
forgotten him.

"Come, doctor," she said, quickly; "let us go to Evan at once."

They passed on to the lower room, leaving Constance and Frank face to
face.

Constance moved back a pace as if to re-enter the dressing-room; burning
with anxiety as she was, to hear more concerning Clifford Heath, her
womanly instincts were too true to permit her to ask information of her
discarded suitor. But Frank's voice stayed her movements.

"Constance, only one moment," he said, appealingly. "Have a little
patience with me _now_. Have a little pity for my misery."

His misery! The words sounded hypocritical; he had never loved John
Burrill over much, she knew.

"I bestow my pity whenever it is truly needed, Frank," she said, coldly,
her face whitening with the anguish of her inward thought. "Do you think
_you_ are the only sufferer in this miserable affair?"

"I am the only one who can not enlist your sympathies. I must live
without your love; I must bear a name disgraced, yet those who brought
about this family disgrace, even Clifford Heath, in a felon's cell, no
doubt you will aid and pity; _he_ is a martyr perhaps, while I--"

"While you--go on, sir;" fierce scorn shining from the gray eyes; bitter
sarcasm in the voice.

"While I," coming closer and fairly hissing the words, "am set aside for
him, a felon, Oh! you are a proud woman, and you keep your secrets well,
but you can not hide from me the fact that ever since the accursed day
that brought you and Clifford Heath together, _he_ has been the man
preferred by you. If I have lost you, you have none the less lost him;
listen."

Before she is aware of his purpose, he has her two wrists in a vice-like
grip; and bending down, until his lips almost touch the glossy locks on
her averted head, he is pouring out, in swift cutting sentences, the
story of the inquest; all the damning evidence is swiftly rehearsed;
nothing that can weigh against his rival, is omitted.

Feeling instinctively that he utters the truth; paralyzed by the weight
of his words; she stands with head drooping more and more, with cheeks
growing paler, with hands that tremble and grow cold in his clasp.

He sees her terror, a sudden thought possesses his brain; grasping her
hands still tighter, he goes madly on:

"Consta