Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now, and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love. "Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter, and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it." "Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!" Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths. Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping, but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had affected before. Presently he spoke again. "Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think there is much left of me." "Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep." "Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary, like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?" "Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--" "That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever, I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove. "What does the doctor say? Has he been here?" "Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away." "Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh. Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself.