But Georgie cared for none of these things; her interest was elsewhere, and the intensity of her anguish and remorse so great that often when she lay with her eyes shut, Jack saw the great drops of sweat standing upon her brow and about her mouth. To Jack as well as to Roy she had said, “Pray for me,” and Jack did not repel her now with scorn, but, unworthy as he felt himself to be, tried to pray for his poor sister, promising to be himself a better man if peace were given to her. And peace came at last, and brought a brighter, happier expression to the worn face, and drove the look of terror from the eyes, and then Georgie talked freely with her brother. It was the night of the 20th, and he alone was watching with her. Again there was a moon, and its silvery light came in through the open window and shone on Georgie’s face, and made it seem to Jack like the face of an angel, as she drew his head down to her and kissed him so lovingly, saying to him, “Dear Jack, let me tell you while I can just how it was that night a month ago. I told you all a _lie_; there was no one in my room. I made it up to screen myself, for I must have some excuse for Roy, some reason why I could not marry him. You told me once the dead might come to life to witness against me. Jack, he did; Henry is not dead; he was here in the garden; I saw him and talked with him, and gave him my diamonds to keep him quiet. But Jack, oh, Jack, don’t think _that_ of me,” she cried, as she saw the look of horror on his face and guessed of what he was suspecting her. “I never for an instant thought to marry Roy after I knew Henry was living. I only did not want him to know about it. I don’t want him to know now. Oh, Jack, can’t I go to Heaven unless I tell Roy everything?” She was getting greatly excited, and Jack tried to quiet her, and brought her a glass of wine, and then, when she was better, listened, while in her slow way she told him what the reader already knows, of her interview with Henry Morton; of all he said to her; of her utter despair and agony, and her planning the story of the robbery to account for her fearful excitement and the sudden illness she meant to feign so as to put off her marriage. “But God planned for me better than I could plan for myself,” she said; “and sent the paralysis as a sure means of separating me from Roy. Henry told me it was Roy’s house he robbed in New York, years ago. I never knew that, or if I heard the name, I forgot it afterward. Did you know it, Jack?” “I knew the name was Leighton, but thought it another family,” Jack said; and Georgie continued: “Had I known it, I could not have done as I did, it seems to me, though I was bad enough for anything. But I hope God has forgiven me. I feel so differently, so sorry for the past; the fear of death is gone, only I don’t know about telling Roy, and Aunt Burton, too. Must I, Jack? Do you think I ought?”