y: the apartment was darkened, but a dainty crib which
occupied the centre of the floor could be dimly seen. As we stepped in,
his nurse, who was bending over the cot, moved with hushed footsteps away
to give us room.

There he lay, my dear, sick lamb! I was so glad to be permitted to see
him. But the result of no ordinary sickness met my eye.

Great purple rings had settled around his closed eyelids, his lips were
blue, his sweet mouth partly opened, he seemed to breathe with
difficulty. I could not speak. Mr. Bristed turned down the coverlet from
the little shoulders.

"Look, Miss Reef," said he hoarsely, his voice quivering with agitation,
pointing to some hideous marks on the little sufferer's throat--"those
are _his_ finger marks."

I sickened. What crime was this that he hinted at so strangely? But the
insinuation was too incredible. The thought that he was working on my
credulity exasperated me.

"If you want me to leave your house, Mr. Bristed, command me and I will
go, but you cannot force me to believe this horrid inference."

He must have felt the disdain with which I spurned him, for he turned
upon his heel and left the room.

I then spoke to Herbert. At the sound of my voice he moved, and I seated
myself by his side. Quietness seemed desirable, and I was not inclined to
break it. Now and then I moistened his lips with a little wine and water.
Seeing that I still sat by the crib, the nurse lay down upon a settee and
fell asleep.

Hours thus passed. The days were short and twilight came on rapidly.
Sitting there in the gathering gloom, I began to hum inadvertently a
little song which Herbert loved me to sing to him. Hearing my voice chant
his favorite ditty, the poor little creature stirred in his crib, and his
pale lips parted into a smile. Presently, in broken tones he asked, "Is
that Miss Reef?"

"Yes, Herbert, darling, I have come to sing to you," said I, mastering my
emotions and chirruping more loudly his beloved song.

The effect seemed truly magical--he endeavored to raise up his little
body. "Oh sing it again," he cried.

"Would you like to sit upon my knee?"

He nodded assent, and I made an effort to lift him up, but he was weak
and heavy, and I not sufficiently strong to sustain him. As he fell back,
my eyes caught sight again of those fearful marks. Some power outside of
myself forced me to ask, "Herbert, what ails your throat; has any one
hurt you?"

At the question, a tremor fea