She was white to the lips.

“And the Herbert girl—­I wonder what she is thinking of!”

“Hush, Marsh—­Oh, hush!  I—­I can not—­I must not think of it!” she cried, and pressed her hands to her eyes convulsively.

“What does it matter to you?” he said grimly.

“Nothing in one way—­everything in another!”

“I wish to God I could believe you!” he muttered.

“You may—­on my soul, Marsh, you may!  It was never what you think—­never—­never!”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, and turned his face toward the wall.

“Marsh—­” she began.

He moved impatiently, and she realized that it was useless to attempt to alter what he had come to believe in absolutely.  Beyond the windows the first pale streaks of a spring dawn were visible, but the earth still clothed itself in silence.  The moments were racing on to the final act of the pitiless tragedy which involved so many lives.

“Marsh—­” Evelyn began again.

“I’ve been a dog to endure your presence in my house!” he said bitterly.

Evelyn was about to answer him when Doctor Taylor came into the room.

“Is he awake?” he questioned.

Langham gazed up into the doctor’s face.

“Will I get well?” he demanded.

“I hope so, Marshall—­I can see no reason why a few days of quiet won’t see you up and about quite as if nothing had happened.”

“Come—­I want to know the truth!  Do you think I’m hurt internally, is that it?” He sought to raise himself on his elbow but slipped back groaning.

“You have sustained a very severe shock, still—­” began the doctor.

“Will I recover?” insisted Langham impatiently.

“Oh, please, Marshall!” cried Evelyn.

“I want to know the truth!  If you don’t think you can stand it, go out into the hail while I thresh this matter out with Taylor!” But Evelyn did not leave her place at his bedside.

“You must not excite yourself!” said Taylor.

“Humph—­if you won’t tell me what I wish to know, I’ll tell you my opinion; it is that I am not going to recover.  I must see Moxlow.  Who is down-stairs?”

“Colonel Harbison and his nephew.”

“Ask Watt to find Moxlow and bring him here.  He’s probably at his boarding-house.”

He spoke with painful effort, and the doctor glanced uncertainly at Evelyn, who by a slight inclination of the head indicated that she wished her husband’s request complied with.  Taylor quitted the room.

“Why do you wish to see Moxlow?” Evelyn asked the moment they were alone.

“I want him here; I may wish to tell him something—­and I may not, it all depends,” he said slowly, as his heavy lids closed over his tired eyes.

It was daylight without, and there was the occasional sound of wheels in the street.  Evelyn realized with a sudden sense of shock that unless Marshall’s bloodless lips opened to tell his secret, but a few hours of life remained to John North.