"I cannot accept that decision. Since I have been lying here, Cynthia, and since you left me, I have seen it all as it appeared in your eyes. I have wondered at my own cowardice; and I hope--I trust that I have repented of it. It is time that I did, Cynthia, for I believe that I am a dying man." "No, no!" she cried, clinging to him passionately. "You will get better now--you must get better--for my sake!" "I wish I could, my darling--I wish I could!" "Why have you such gloomy thoughts? You are depressed; you have wanted me. I shall soon make you well. I shall take you away from England to some warm bright country where you will have nothing to do but be happy and grow quite strong; and I will take care of you, and make up to you if I can for everything that you have lost." "Yes, if one had not a conscience," said Hubert, with a faint sad smile, "one could be very happy, could one not? But you forget; you told me before that I must make amends. My darling, there is only one course open to me now." "Hubert!" She knew by instinct what course he meant to take. "We are going to have the whole truth told now," he went on softly. "And what a relief it will be! My God, I wonder that I could bear the burden so long! For I have suffered, Cynthia, though not as your father has. I am going now to tell the truth and bear the penalty; there is no other way." "There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak bravely. "It was a duel." "Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling what the punishment will be; and public feeling will--very rightly--be against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to pieces if they can get hold of me!" "They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all for your sister's sake----" "I want to save Flossy, Cynthia. I think I can shield her still." "I do not think that my father will shield her, Hubert. He knows." "She must be shielded, if possible, dear, for the old General's sake. What a fool I was not to prevent that marriage! Well, it can't be helped now. But one thing I can do--I can exonerate your father, and confess that I shot Sydney Vane, without a word about my sister. That must be so, Cynthia. And your father must be silent." "You will deprive yourself of your one excuse," said Cynthia quietly. "I know. I cannot help it. I must stand forth to the world as a brutal murderer--as once your father did, my Cynthia. It is only right and just. They must sentence me as they please. But it will not be for long; I shall probably not come out of prison. But, if I do----" Cynthia burst into tears. "I can't bear it--I can't bear it!" she cried. "My father is right--he has got over the worst of it and outlived all that was hard. It would be terrible for you! How could you bear it--and how could I?"