signorina comes every day, and I cannot help it. What would
you have? I'm a dead man," and he turned away his face.

"It is not so bad as that," said Richard.

Torrini looked up with a ghastly smile. "They have cut off the
hand that struck you, Mr. Shackford."

"I suppose it was necessary. I am very sorry. In a little while
you will be on your feet again."

"It is too late. They might have saved me by taking the arm, but I
would not allow them. I may last three or four days. The doctor says
it."

Peters, standing in the shadow, jerked his head affirmatively.

"I do not care for myself," the man continued,--"but she and the
little ones--That is what maddens me. They will starve."

"They will not be let starve in Stillwater," said Richard.

Torrini turned his eyes upon him wistfully and doubtfully. "You
will help them?"

"Yes, I and others."

"If they could be got to Italy," said Torrini, after meditating,
"it would be well. Her farther," giving a side look at the woman, "is
a fisherman of Capri." At the word Capri the woman lifted her head
quickly. "He is not rich, but he's not poor; he would take her."

"You would wish her sent to Naples?"

"Yes."

"If you do not pull through, she and the children shall go there."

"Brigida!" called Torrini; then he said something rapidly in
Italian to the woman, who buried her face in both hands, and did not
reply.

"She has no words to thank you. See, she is tired to death, with
the children all day and me all night,--these many nights."

"Tell her to go to bed in the other room," said Richard. "There's
another room, isn't there? I'll sit with you."

"You?"

"Your wife is fagged out,--that is plain. Send her to bed, and
don't talk any more. Peters, I wish you'd run and get a piece of ice
somewhere; there's no drinking-water here. Come, now, Torrini, I
can't speak Italian. Oh, I don't mind your scowling; I intend to
stay."

Torrini slowly unknitted his brows, and an irresolute expression
stole across his face; then he called Brigida, and bade her go in
with the children. She bowed her head submissively, and fixing her
melting eyes on Richard for an instant passed into the adjoining
chamber.

Peters shortly reappeared with the ice, and after setting a jug of
water on the table departed. Richard turned up the wick of the
kerosene lamp, which was sending forth a disagreeable odor, and
pinned an old newspaper around the chimney to screen the flame. He
had, by