coming to him with information.

The case proceeded favorably, and, to Griffith's surprise and joy, a
healthy boy was born about two o'clock in the morning. The mother was
reported rather feverish, but nothing to cause alarm.

Griffith threw himself on two chairs and fell fast asleep.

Towards morning he found himself shaken, and there was Ashley, the young
doctor, standing beside him with a very grave face. Griffith started up,
and cried, "What is wrong, in God's name?"

"I am sorry to say there has been a sudden hemorrhage, and the patient
is much exhausted."

"She is dying, she is dying!" cried Griffith, in anguish.

"Not dying. But she will infallibly sink, unless some unusual
circumstance occur to sustain vitality."

Griffith laid hold of him. "O sir, take my whole fortune, but save her!
save her! save her!"

"Mr. Gaunt," said the young doctor, "be calm, or you will make matters
worse. There is one chance to save her; but my professional brethren are
prejudiced against it. However, they have consented, at my earnest
request, to refer my proposal to you. She is sinking for want of blood;
if you consent to my opening a vein and transfusing healthy blood from a
living subject into hers, I will undertake the operation. You had better
come and see her; you will be more able to judge."

"Let me lean on you," said Griffith. And the strong wrestler went
tottering up the stairs. There they showed him poor Kate, white as the
bed-clothes, breathing hard, and with a pulse that hardly moved.

Griffith looked at her horror-struck.

"Death has got hold of my darling," he screamed. "Snatch her away! for
God's sake, snatch her from him!"

The young doctor whipped off his coat, and bared his arm.

"There," he cried, "Mr. Gaunt consents. Now, Corrie, be quick with the
lancet, and hold this tube as I tell you; warm it first in that water."

Here came an interruption. Griffith Gaunt griped the young doctor's arm,
and, with an agonized and ugly expression of countenance, cried out,
"What, _your_ blood! What right have you to lose blood for her?"

"The right of a man who loves his art better than his blood," cried
Ashley, with enthusiasm.

Griffith tore off his coat and waistcoat, and bared his arm to the
elbow. "Take every drop I have. No man's blood shall enter her veins but
mine." And the creature seemed to swell to double his size, as, with
flushed cheek and sparkling eyes, he held out a bare arm corded like a
bla