And, with one vigorous effort, he swept himself clear of the hands that were pinioning him, and sprung again upon the gambler with the fierce energy of a savage beast.  By this time, Green had got his knife free from its sheath, and, as Hammond was closing upon him in his blind rage, plunged it into his side.  Quick almost as lightning, the knife was withdrawn, and two more stabs inflicted ere we could seize and disarm the murderer.  As we did so, Willy Hammond fell over with a deep groan, the blood flowing from his side.

In the terror and excitement that followed, Green rushed from the room.  The doctor, who was instantly summoned, after carefully examining the wound, and the condition of the unhappy young man, gave it as his opinion that he was fatally injured.

Oh! the anguish of the father, who had quickly heard of the dreadful occurrence, when this announcement was made.  I never saw such fearful agony in any human countenance.  The calmest of all the anxious group was Willy himself.  On his father’s face his eyes were fixed as if by a kind of fascination.

“Are you in much pain, my poor boy!” sobbed the old man, stooping over him, until his long white hair mingled with the damp locks of the sufferer.

“Not much, father,” was the whispered reply.  “Don’t speak of this to mother, yet.  I’m afraid it will kill her.”

What could the father answer?  Nothing!  And he was silent.

“Does she know of it?” A shadow went over his face.

Mr. Hammond shook his head.

Yet, even as he spoke, a wild cry of distress was heard below.  Some indiscreet person had borne to the ears of the mother the fearful news about her son, and she had come wildly flying toward the tavern, and was just entering.

“It is my poor mother,” said Willy, a flush coming into his pale face.  “Who could have told her of this?”

Mr. Hammond started for the door, but ere he had reached it, the distracted mother entered.

“Oh!  Willy, my boy! my boy!” she exclaimed, in tones of anguish that made the heart shudder.  And she crouched down on the floor, the moment she reached the bed whereon he lay, and pressed her lips—­oh, so tenderly and lovingly!—­to his.

“Dear mother!  Sweet mother!  Best of mothers!” He even smiled as he said this; and, into the face now bent over him, looked up with glances of unutterable fondness.

“Oh, Willy!  Willy!  Willy! my son, my son!” And again her lips were laid closely to his.

Mr. Hammond now interfered, and endeavored to remove his wife, fearing for the consequence upon his son.

“Don’t, father!” said Willy; “let her remain.  I am not excited nor disturbed.  I am glad that she is here, now.  It will be best for us both.”

“You must not excite him, dear,” said Mr. Hammond—­“he is very weak.”

“I’ll not excite him,” answered the mother.  “I’ll not speak a word.  There, love”—­and she laid her fingers softly upon the lips of her son—­“don’t speak a single word.”