leep again."

"No, I can't sleep for thinking. When the Signorina came to see
me, the other day, her heart was pierced with pity. Like the blessed
Madonna's, her bosom bleeds for all! You will let her come
to-morrow?"

"Yes, yes! If you will only keep quiet, Margaret shall come."

"Margherita, we say. You are to wed her,--is it not so?"

Richard turned down the wick of the lamp, which was blazing and
spluttering, and did not answer. Then Torrini lay silent a long
while, apparently listening to the hum of the telegraph wires
attached to one end of the roof. At odd intervals the freshening
breeze swept these wires, and awoke a low aeolian murmur. The moon
rose in the mean time, and painted on the uncarpeted floor the shape
of the cherry bough that stretched across the window. It was two
o'clock; Richard sat with his head bent forward, in a drowse.

"Now the cousin is dead, you are as rich as a prince,--are you
not?" inquired Torrini, who had lain for the last half hour with his
eyes wide open in the moonlight.

Richard straightened himself with a jerk.

"Torrini, I positively forbid you to talk any more!"

"I remember you said that one day, somewhere. Where was it? Ah, in
the yard! 'You can't be allowed to speak here, you know.' And then I
struck at you,--with that hand they've taken away! See how I remember
it!"

"Why do you bother your mind with such things? Think of just
nothing at all, and rest. Perhaps a wet cloth on your forehead will
refresh you. I wish you had a little of my genius for not keeping
awake."

"You are tired, you?"

"I have had two broken nights, traveling."

"And I give you no peace?"

"Well, no," returned Richard bluntly, hoping the admission would
induce Torrini to tranquilize himself, "you don't give me much."

"Has any one been here?" demanded Torrini abruptly.

"Not a soul. Good Heaven, man, do you know what time it is?"

"I know,--I know. It's very late. I ought to keep quiet; but, the
devil! with this fever in my brain!... Mr. Shackford!" and
Torrini, in spite of his imprisoned limb, suddenly half raised
himself from the mattress. "I--I"--

Richard sprung to his feet. "What is it,--what do you want?"

"Nothing," said Torrini, falling back on the pillow.

Richard brought him a glass of water, which he refused. He lay
motionless, with his eyes shut, as if composing himself, and Richard
returned on tiptoe to his bench. A moment or two afterwards Torrini
stirred the blank