If Bertie had known that the doomed man had, to his other crimes, added that of cowardly slaying his bosom friend Douglas, could it have been possible that into his heart there could have come the feeling--was it pity--that now arose? At last, then, Fordingbridge's end had come; he was to pay for all! And--and--for of such complex emotions are we formed--as Bertie heard that his doom was sealed, he forgot the wrongs he had suffered at this man's hands; he forgot the wreck of his and of Kate's life; if he did not forgive him, he compassionated him. Rising from his chair he went over to the bed where Fordingbridge was seated, and on which he shrank from him as he approached, and, pointing to the biscuit he held in his trembling hands, he said, very gently, "Eat, Fordingbridge, eat. It will do you good. And, see, you have nothing to drink," and going back to the table he poured out a cup of wine and brought it to him. With still trembling hands the madman took it from him, glinting at him over the cup as though afraid, and watching him as though fearful that at any moment a blow might be dealt; and then, when he had drained the last drop, he began slowly to munch the biscuit, which he kept shut in the palm of his hand, as though someone was about to take it from him. "Do you ever," asked Bertie, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if he might thereby make him understand what he was saying, "do you ever think of those who--who were once dear to you? If--if--it should please God in His infinite mercy that, some day, perhaps in some far-off, remote day, I may depart from here, and you--may not--not accompany me, is there any word, any message, you would wish to send?" Still Fordingbridge shrank from him, creeping, edging farther away from where he had sat down by his side, but he uttered no word. Only, still his eyes roamed restlessly over Bertie's form, and still his mouth worked convulsively as ever, and his hands twitched. "Think. Reflect, I beseech you," the man whom he had wronged so much continued, "you are not well--you may--at any moment--be worse. And I, forgetful of the past, would, if it ever comes into my power, very willingly do this for you. Fordingbridge, you may trust me. As I sit by you to-night, I cast away for ever from my memory the evil you have wrought me; I desire only that, if I can, I may serve you. Can I do nothing?" And still the other shrank from him, understanding, perhaps, not one word that he said. Once more, however, Bertie continued: "If you can comprehend me, I pray you do so. Think, remember. You had a wife once; before God I believe she is your wife now, and always has been; I do not believe that you deceived her. Have you no word for her, no plea for pardon, no request that, as time goes on, she may come to think of you without bitterness? Also there are others--Archibald Sholto and Douglas----"