"Are you mad, or have you been drinking?" cried Guest angrily, and he caught his friend by the shoulders. "Don't--don't, Percy," said Stratton feebly. "I'm not myself to-night. I--I--Why did you come?" he asked vacantly. "Because it was life or death to me," cried Guest. "I couldn't say a word to you then, but I've loved little Edie ever since we first met. You were my friend, Mal, and I couldn't say anything when I saw you two so thick together. She seemed to prefer your society to mine, and she had a right to choose. I've been half-mad to-day since you told me you cared for her, but I couldn't sleep till I knew all the worst." "I told you I loved Edith Perrin?" "Yes! Are you so stupefied by what you have taken that you don't know what you are saying?" "I know what I am saying," said Stratton, almost in a whisper. "I never told you that." "I swear you did, man. You don't know what you say." "I told you I was going to see the admiral. All a mistake--your's-- mine," he gasped feebly. "What do you mean?" cried Guest, shaking him. "I always liked little Edie, but it was Myra I loved." "What?" cried Guest wildly. "I spoke to her father to-day, plainly, as--as--an honest man. Too late, old fellow; too late." "Too late?" "She is engaged--to be married--to the admiral's friend." "Barron?" "Yes." "I thought as much. Then it was all a mistake about Edie!" cried Guest wildly. "I beg your pardon, Mal. I'm excited, too. I'm awfully sorry, though, old man. But tell me," he cried, changing his manner. "Those letters--that glass? Great Heavens! You were never going to be such a madman, such an idiot, as to--Oh, say it was all a mistake!" "That I should have been a dead man by this?" said Stratton solemnly. "That was no mistake," he murmured piteously. "What is there to live for now?" CHAPTER THIRTEEN. THE WEDDING DAY. Four weeks had passed since Malcolm Stratton's insane attempt--four weeks of an utterly prostrating illness from which he was slowly recovering, when, one morning, Guest entered the room where Brettison was seated by his friend's couch, and made an announcement which wrought a sudden change in the convalescent. "I expected it," he said quietly; and then, after a pause, "I will go with you." Guest opened and shut his mouth without speaking for a few moments. Then: "Go--with me? You go with me? Why, it would be madness." "Madness, madness, old fellow," said Stratton feebly, "but I tell you I am quite strong now." "Very far from it," said Brettison. "And I say so too," cried Guest. "Look here, old fellow, do you mean to assert that you are _compos mentis_?" "Of course," said Stratton, smiling. "Then I say you are not," cried Guest, "and Mr Brettison will second me. You are weak as a rat in spite of all our watching, and feeding, and care." "All this long, weary month," sighed Stratton. "Heaven bless you both for what you have done."