he had
some notion already, Hubert. He told me that he suspected you--or your
sister--some time ago; and he said to me to-day that he believed that
you could have cleared him if you had liked."

"And what did you say? I wish that you had found it in your heart to
tell him everything you knew."

"I could not do that. But I did not deny what he had said!" and then she
told him all that she remembered of her father's words.

"His generosity crushes me to the earth!" said Hubert hoarsely. "I must
tell him the whole story, and let him decide."

"He has decided."

"I cannot accept that decision. Since I have been lying here, Cynthia,
and since you left me, I have seen it all as it appeared in your eyes. I
have wondered at my own cowardice; and I hope--I trust that I have
repented of it. It is time that I did, Cynthia, for I believe that I am
a dying man."

"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him passionately. "You will get better
now--you must get better--for my sake!"

"I wish I could, my darling--I wish I could!"

"Why have you such gloomy thoughts? You are depressed; you have wanted
me. I shall soon make you well. I shall take you away from England to
some warm bright country where you will have nothing to do but be happy
and grow quite strong; and I will take care of you, and make up to you
if I can for everything that you have lost."

"Yes, if one had not a conscience," said Hubert, with a faint sad smile,
"one could be very happy, could one not? But you forget; you told me
before that I must make amends. My darling, there is only one course
open to me now."

"Hubert!" She knew by instinct what course he meant to take.

"We are going to have the whole truth told now," he went on softly. "And
what a relief it will be! My God, I wonder that I could bear the burden
so long! For I have suffered, Cynthia, though not as your father has. I
am going now to tell the truth and bear the penalty; there is no other
way."

"There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak
bravely. "It was a duel."

"Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling
what the punishment will be; and public feeling will--very rightly--be
against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have
cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to
pieces if they can get hold of me!"

"They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all
for your si