“Rally round our party, boys;
    Rally to the blue,
    And battle for our candidate,
    So sterling and so true,
    Fight for honest government, boys,
    And down the vicious crew;
    Voting for freedom and Stirling.

    “Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, brave and strong. 
    Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, never wrong. 
    And roll the voters up in line,
    Two hundred thousand strong;
    Voting for freedom and Stirling.”

“I can’t fight so many.  Two hundred thousand!  I have no sword.  I didn’t shoot them.  No!  I only gave the order.  It hurt me, but I didn’t mean to hurt her.  She’s all I have.  Do you think I intended to kill her?  No!  No sacrifice would be too great.  And you can talk to me of votes!  Two hundred thousand votes!  I did my best for her.  I didn’t mean to hurt her.  And I went to see the families.  I went to see them all.  If I only could think.  But she is suffering too much.  I can’t think as long as she lies on the rug, and trembles so.  See the flashes of lightning pass through her head.  Don’t bury your face in the rug.  No wonder it’s all dark.  Try to think, and then it will be all right.”

Up from the street came the air of:  “There were three crows,” and the words: 

    “Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth,
    Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth. 
    Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed,
      But all his schemes will end in froth! 
    And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. 
    And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.

    “For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth,
    For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth,
    For Peter Stirling elected will be
      And Steven Maguire will be in broth,
    And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah,
    And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.”

“It’s Steven Maguire.  He never could be honest.  If I had him here!” Peter came in contact with a chair.  “Who’s that?  Ah!  It’s you.  You’ve killed her.  Now!” And another chair went flying across the room with such force, that the door to the hall flew off its hinges, and fell with a crash.  “I’ve killed him” screamed Peter.  “I’ve—­No, I’ve killed my darling.  All I have in the world!”

And so he raved, and roamed, and stumbled, and fell; and rose, and roamed, and raved, and stumbled, and fell, while the great torchlight procession sang and cheered him from below.

He was wildly fighting his pain still when two persons, who, after ringing and ringing, had finally been let in by Jenifer’s key, stood where the door had been.

“My God,” cried one, in terror.  “He’s crazy!  Come away!”

But the other, without a word or sign of fear, went up to that wild-looking figure, and put her hand in his.

Peter stopped his crazed stride.