"Yes."
"If you knew--bend your head, for my breath is going--if you knew that the man who is the father of my child had striven to do you a great wrong, to blast your life--had schemed to sting your husband to crime--your husband whom you love, do you not--?"
"Whom I love," repeated Alice, softly.
"--For whom, as I have heard Grif say, you would give your life--"
"For whom, if needed, I would give my life."
"--If you knew that Jim Pizey, my baby's father, was his bitterest enemy, you would leave me to die alone--alone!"
"No, Milly, dear, I would not. I know that Jim Pizey tempted my husband; but he escaped, thank God!"
"You think so--come closer--take this letter--and by-and-by, not now"--she could not control her shudders as she said these words, and gave Alice the letter she had stolen from Old Flick--"by-and-by, read it. It is from Jim Pizey--he is a bad, wicked man, but I was living with him. If ever you see him, let him know that I am dead, and that with my last breath I asked you to forgive him."
"I will, Milly."
"Alice--may I call you Alice?--thank you--Alice, my dear, say you forgive me, for any unconscious wrong I may have done you."