"There, there, you foolish child!" he replied, not ill-naturedly. "That wasn't your fault or mine; the men got to quarreling in the house, and we killed the other—"
"But it was so terrible; that dying man's face has haunted me ever since—I can see his eyes glaring, and hear his breath struggling and gurgling yet—see him clutching and tearing at the bed—"
"Don't, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, catching hold of her; "you'll drive a man mad!"
She had risen from her seat, and was pointing wildly at the floor as she spoke, but his voice seemed to recall her to herself. She sunk back into her chair panting for breath, while Yates vainly endeavored to conceal his own discomposure.
"You will go crazy in one of these abominable fits," he said, brushing his hand across his forehead, and sweeping the great drops of perspiration away.
"Then don't bring such memories back," she shuddered.
After all, the woman was the first to regain her usual manner, while Yates walked slowly up and down the room, his mind divided between the recollections her words had aroused and the plans which had been arranged during the past days.
"So we must give it up," he said, at length, "and all for your confounded folly."
"Do you call it folly?" cried Sybil, with a miserable specter of a laugh.
"Yes, I do! There is one thing certain; your obstinacy and cowardice will lengthen your stay here by ten good years."