But retribution for both was near. The smallpox was almost epidemic in the city: Zell's silk had swept against a beggar's infected rags, and fourteen days later appeared the fatal symptoms. And truly she is weary and heart-sick this afternoon. She never remembered feeling so ill. The thought of death appalled her. She felt, as never before, that she wanted some one to love and take care of her. Van Dam entered, and said, rather roughly: "What's the matter?" "I'm sick," said Zell, faintly. He muttered an oath. She arose from the sofa and tottered to his easy-chair, knelt, and clasped his knees. "Guilliam," she pleaded, "I am very sick. I have a feeling that I shall die. Won't you marry me? Won't you take care of your poor little Zell, that loved you so well as to leave all for you? Perhaps I sha'n't burden you much longer, but, if I do get well, I will be your patient slave, if you will only marry me;" and the tears poured over the hot, feverish cheeks, that they could not cool. His only reply was to ask, with some irritation: "How do you feel?" "Oh, my head aches, my bones ache, every part of my body aches, but my heart aches worst of all. You can ease that, Guilliam. In the name of God's mercy, won't you?" A sudden thought caused the coward's face to grow white with fear. "I must have a doctor see you," was his only reply to her appeal, and he passed hastily out. Zell felt that a blow would have been better than his indifference, and she crawled back to her couch. A little later, she was conscious that a physician was feeling her pulse, and examining her symptoms. After he was gone she had strength enough to take off her jewelry and rings--all, save one solitaire diamond, that her father had given her. The rest seemed to oppress her with their weight. She then threw herself on the bed. She was next conscious that some one was lifting her up. She roused for a moment, and stared around. There were several strange faces. "What do you want? What are you going to do with me?" she asked, in a thick voice, and in vague terror. "I am sorry, miss," said one of the men, in an official tone; "but you have the smallpox, and we must take you to the hospital." She gave one shriek of horror. A hand was placed over her mouth. She murmured faintly: "Guilliam--help!" and then, under the effects of disease and fear, became partially unconscious; but her hand clenched, and with some instinct hard to understand, remained so, over the diamond ring that was her father's gift.