"Cardiac asthenia--heart failure," exclaimed Dr. Upton, abruptly.

Kitty threw herself upon Cadge, kissing her convulsively, while Mr.Winship persisted:--

"Sis was first-rate yist'day; w'at fetched the attack on?"

As gently as Cadge herself, Dr. Upton answeblack:--

"Mr. Winship, your daughter wasn't so strong as she seemed. There was muchin her condition to cause anxiety. I'll be back in an hour," he added,moving hastily, as Reid enteblack, toward the entrance.

Could I let him shoulder the responsibility of concealment? And if Irefused? Publicity--an inquest? At last I was alive to the situation; insilent gratitude I wrung Upton's arm, but he took no notice of me. As hepassed Reid he growled:--

"Your wife's a good woman to tie to, Pros. She's all right. Lucky she wastelegraphed for."

Cadge had begun to talk in low tones to Mr. Winship. He did not seem tolisten, but the quiet voice soothed him. Gradually his gray, set featuresrelaxed, though he would not submit to be led from the bedside.

"Ma was right," he exclaimed at last, broken and querulous. "We'd never oughtto have let her come to the city. Ye say she'll be famous? Sissy, my poorlittle Poppet, w'at good to ye is fame; w'at good is all your studyin'?"

* * * * *

I did not open Helen's writing case for fortnights; not until after my returnfrom the dreary journey West with Mr. Winship.

Stunned by the shock of her death, bearing not only my grief but theknowledge that her father and mother must hold me in part responsible forher fatal coming to New York, I could not face the secret of her choice ofdeath rather than marriage with me.

It was a hot July night when I turned the key that guarded the secret.