Edgar, with the wonted patience of a physician, sat down and waited for his friend to move. He would not interrupt him, but would simply be in readiness to hand the coffee when Frank turned. But he never handed him that cup of coffee, for suddenly, Frank, with a wild air and eyes fixed in a dazed stare upon the paper, started to his feet, and uttering a cry, began turning over the two or three sheets he was reading, as if he had made some almost incomprehensible discovery. "Edgar, Edgar," he hurriedly gasped, "read these over for me; I cannot see the words; there is something different here; we have made a mistake! Oh, what has happened! my head is all in a whirl." He sank back in his chair. Edgar, rushing forward, seized the half dozen sheets offered him and glanced eagerly over them. "I see no difference," he cried; but as he went on, driven by Frank's expectant eye, he gave a surprised start also, and turning back the pages, read them again and again, crying at last: "We must have overlooked one of these sheets. We read her letter without this page. What a mischance! for with these words left in it is no longer a confession we have before us, but a narrative. Frank, Frank, we have wronged the girl. She has no crime to bemoan, only a misery to relate." "Read it aloud," broke from Frank's lips. "Let me hear it from your mouth. How could we have overlooked such a page? Oh, my poor girl! my poor girl!" Edgar, beginning back a page or two from the one which had before escaped their attention, read as follows. The portion marked by brackets is the one that was new to both their eyes: "But before the doctor appeared that morning father had called me for the third and last time to his side. "'I wish to see my eldest daughter alone,' he declared, as Emma lingered and Doris hovered about the open door. They at once went out. 'Now shut the door,' said he, as their footsteps were heard descending the stairs. "I did as I was bid, though I felt as if I were shutting myself in with some horrid doom. "'Now come in front of me,' he commanded. 'I want to look at you; I have just five minutes left in which to do it.' "'Five minutes!' I repeated hoarsely, creeping round with tottering and yet more tottering steps to where he pointed. "'Yes; the poison has done its work at last. At eight o'clock I shall be dead.' "'Poison!' I shrieked, but in so choked a tone the word sounded like a smothered whisper. "But he was alarmed by it for all that.