after that, leave her for them?'

He spoke plainly. And yet, God forgive me, it was some time before I
understood him: before I took in the meaning of his words, or could
transfer my thoughts from the absent to my mother lying on the bed
before me. When I did do so, and turned to her, and saw her still face
and thin hair straggling over the coarse pillow, then, indeed, the sight
overcame me. I thought no more of others--for I thought her dead; and
with a great and bitter cry I fell on my knees beside her and hid my
face. What, after all, was this headstrong girl to me? What were even
kings and king's commissions to me beside her--beside the one human
being who loved me still, the one being of my blood and name left, the
one ever-patient, ever-constant heart which for years had beaten only
for me? For a while, for a few moments, I was worthy of her; for I
forgot all others.

Simon Fleix roused me at last from my stupor, making me understand that
she was not dead, but in a deep swoon, the result of the shock she had
undergone. A leech, for whom he had despatched a neighbour, came in as I
rose, and taking my place, presently restored her to consciousness. But
her extreme feebleness warned me not to hope for more than a temporary
recovery; nor had I sat by her long before I discerned that this last
blow, following on so many fears and privations, had reached a vital
part, and that she was even now dying.

She lay for a while with her hand in mine and her eyes closed, but about
noon, the student, contriving to give her some broth, she revived, and,
recognising me, lay for more than an hour gazing at me with unspeakable
content and satisfaction. At the end of that time, and when I thought
she was past speaking, she signed to me to bend over her, and whispered
something, which at first I could not catch. Presently I made it out to
be, 'She is gone--The girl you brought?'

Much troubled, I answered yes, begging her not to think about the
matter. I need not have feared, however, for when she spoke again she
did so without emotion, and rather as one seeing clearly something
before her.

'When you find her, Gaston,' she murmured, 'do not be angry with her. It
was not her fault. She--he deceived her. See!'

I followed the direction rather of her eyes than her hand, and found
beneath the pillow a length of gold chain. 'She left that?' I murmured,
a strange tumult of emotions in my breast.

'She laid it there,' my mother whis