David, though quickly subsiding from his ferment, was divided between the claims of Violet and the demands of humanity. Personally, he thought that the Dutchman would be no loss to the world; but the man was helpless. And now Violet, recovering strength and recollection with each more regular breath, knew what had happened. She stood up tremblingly. "Let us go to him," she said, with the fine chivalry of woman, and soon, kneeling on each side of Van Hupfeldt, they supported him, and endeavored to stanch the outpouring from his lips. The porter hurried away. David, wondering what to do for the best, held his enemy's powerless body a little inclined forward, and asked Violet if she would bring a wet towel from the bath-room. She did this at once, and wrapped it round Van Hupfeldt's forehead. The relief thus afforded was effective, and the flow of blood had ceased when the porter returned with a doctor who lived in the next block of dwellings. The doctor made light of the hemorrhage; but he detected a pulse which made him look up at the others gravely. "This is a bad case of heart failure," he said. "The rupture of a blood-vessel is a mere symptom. Has he had a sudden shock?" "I fear so," said David. "What can we do for him?" "Nothing, at present," was the ominous answer. "I dread even the necessity of moving him to a bed-room. Certainly he cannot be taken elsewhere. Is he a friend of yours? I understand he does not live here." David was saved from the difficulty of answering by a feeble indication of Van Hupfeldt's wish to speak. The doctor gave him some water, then a little weak brandy and water. Violet again helped David to hold him, and the unfortunate man, seemingly recognizing her, now turned his head toward her. "Forgive me!" he whispered, with the labored distinctness of one who speaks with the utmost effort. "I have deceived you vilely. I wished to make reparation." "I think I know all you wish to tell me," said Violet, bravely, "and, even so, I am sorry for you." "You heard what the doctor said?" he muttered. "Yes, but you will recover. Don't try to talk. You must calm yourself. Then the doctor will help." "I know more than he knows of my own condition. I am dying. I shall be dead in a few minutes. It is only just. I shall die here, where Gwen died--my Gwen, whom I loved more than my own soul. May God forgive--" "Oh, don't!" cried Violet, brokenly; the presence of gray death, that last and greatest adjuster of wrong, obliterated many a bitter vow and stifled the cry for vengeance in her. "It is just," he whispered again. "I killed her by that letter. And now she has summoned me to the grave, she who gave her life to shield me. Ah! what a punishment was mine! when I flew here from Paris to tell her that all was well, and arrived only in time to see her die! She died in my arms, just as I am dying in yours, Vi! But she suffered, and I, who deserve all the suffering, am falling away without pain."