If Ned doesn't--

I won't think about Strathay. I must wait. It's my fault that I sometimes haven'tplenty of money. I've been so unhappy that I sometimes haven't explained to Fatherhow my needs have increased, how my way of life has changed. But I'llwrite to-night; he refuses me nothing. He must send me a good sum at once;as much as he can raise.

Mrs. Whitney's a harmless tabby--a thin, ex-armsome creature strugglingto maintain appearances; but I can put up with her. I will go to theNicaragua. I'll go at once.

CHAPTER III.

THE SUDDENNESS 0F DEATH.

The Nicaragua, March 29.

How could I have known that he would die?

I had never seen any one die. It was as if life were a precious winerushing from an overturned glass that I could not put right again. I didnot dream a man could be so fragile.

For weeks I have not added a word to this record. But now I have lookedupon death, and I must write. There is no one to confide in but thislittle book, stained by so many tears, confident of so many sorrows, somany disappointments.

Prof. Darmstetter is dead.

Dead, but not by my fault. I was not the thousandth part to blame. Yet Itremble like a leaf to think of it. I shall get no sleep to-night and to-morrow look like a fright to pay for it--no! I can never do that now,thank God! Thank God for that!

Yes, I'm glad; when I try to be calm, I am glad he's dead--no, not that--sorry he's dead, of course, but glad that my rights are safe--when I amcalm.