So the day went by over that shattered life; and each hour the man’s despair grew more black, his grief and misery more hopeless.  The girl watched him and followed him about as if she had been a child, but she could get him to take no food, and to divert his mind to anything else she dared not even try.  He would sit for hours writhing in his torment, and then again he would spring up and pace the room in agitation, though he was too weak to bear that very long.  Afterwards the long night came on, and all through it he lay tossing and moaning, sometimes shuddering in a kind of paroxysm of grief,—­Helen, though she was weary and almost fainting, watching thro the whole night, her heart wild with her dread.

And so the morning came, and another day of misery; and in the midst of it David flung himself down upon the sofa and buried his face in his arms and cried out, “Oh God, my God, I cannot stand it, I cannot stand it!  Oh, let me die!  I dare not lift my head—­there is no hope for me—­there is no life for me—­I dare not pray!  It is more than I can bear—­I am beaten, I am lost forever!” And Helen fell down upon her knees beside him, and tore away his hands from his face and stared at him frantically, exclaiming, “David, it is too cruel!  Oh, have mercy upon me, David, if you love me!”

He stopped and gazed long and earnestly into her face, and a look of infinite pity came into his eyes; at last he whispered, in a low voice, “Poor, poor little Helen; oh, Helen, God help you, what can I do?” He paused and afterwards went on tremblingly, “What have you done that you should suffer like this?  You are right that it is too cruel—­it is another curse that I have to bear!  For I knew that I was born to suffering—­I knew that my life was broken and dying—­and yet I dared to take yours into it!  And now, what can I do to save you, Helen; can you not see that I dare not live?”

“David, it is you who are killing yourself,” the girl moaned in answer.  He did not reply, but there came a long, long silence, in which he seemed to be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it was in a shuddering voice that made Helen’s heart stop.  “Oh, it is no use,” he gasped, “it is no use!  Listen, Helen, there was another secret that I kept from you, because it was too fearful; but I can keep it no more, I can fight no more!”

He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and was staring into his face, whispering his name hoarsely.  At last he went on in his cruel despair, “I knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was bringing it upon you—­the misery of this wretched, dying body.  Oh, it hurts—­it hurts now!” And he put his hand over his heart, as a look of pain came into his face.  “It cannot stand much more, my heart,” he panted; “the time must come—­they told me it would come years ago!  And then—­and then—­”