'Or if I have not, it has been no thanks to me; it has been thanks to you, who have saved me from myself! But whatever there has been between us, it is over now. That is what I sent for you to tell you. _Over_! do you understand? _Gone! done with!_ Do you understand? Why do not you say something? Do you hear? Do you understand?' 'I hear,' he answers in a mazed voice; 'but I--I do not understand! I do not understand why, if you want to tell me this, you should tell it me _now_ of all times.' 'It is _now_ of all times that I want to tell you--that I must tell you!' cries she wildly. 'Cannot you see that it is on account of _him_? Oh, cannot you think what it has been kneeling beside him with his little hot hand in mine! You do not know how fiery hot his hand is! Last night his pulse was so quick that the doctor could scarcely count the beats--it was up to 120; and while I was kneeling beside him the thought came to me that perhaps this had happened to him on--on--account of--_us_! that it was a judgment on me!' She pauses for a minute, and he tries to put in some soothing suggestion, but she goes on without heeding him. 'You may call it superstition if you please, but it came to me--oh, it seems years ago now!--it must have been the night before last!--and as the night went on, it kept getting worse and worse, as he got worse and worse; and in the morning I could not bear it any longer, and I sent for you! I thought that you would have been here in a couple of hours.' 'So I would! So I would! Heaven knows so I would, if it had been possible!' 'And all yesterday he went on growing worse--I did not think that he could have been worse than he was in the night, and live--but he was. All day and all last night again he was struggling for breath!--think of having to sit by and see a little child struggling for his breath!' She stops, convulsed anew by that terrible dry sobbing, that is so much more full of anguish than any tears. 'Poor little chap! poor Betty!' 'I have been listening all night for you! I could not have believed that you would have been so long in coming; it is such a little way off! I knew--I had a feeling that he would never get better until you had come--until I had told you that it was all over between us; but I have told you now, have not I? I have done all that I could! One cannot recall the past; no one can, not even God! He cannot expect that of me; but I have done what I could--all that is left me to do, have not I?' There is such a growing wildness in both her eye and voice that he does not know in what terms to answer her; and can only still kneel beside her, in silent, pitying distress.