“He doesn't know me,” whispered Dunn, as the sick man's gaze was turned to him without the slightest sign of recognition,—“he does n't know me!”
“I do. I know you well, Davenport Dunn, and I know why you come here,” said Kellett, with a distinctness that startled them both. “Leave us alone together, Bella darling; we want to talk privately.”
Sybella was so astounded at this sudden show of intelligence that she scarcely knew how to take it, or what to do; but at a gesture from Dunn, she stepped noiselessly from the room, and left them together.
“You must not excite yourself, Kellett, nor prejudice your prospect of recovery by any exertion; there will be time enough for matters of business hereafter—”
“No, there won't; that's the reason I want to talk to you now,” said Kellett, sharply. “I know well enough my life is short here.”
Dunn began some phrase of cheering meaning; but the other stopped him abruptly, and said,—
“There, there, don't be losing time that way. Is that the touch of a man long for this world?” and he laid on the other's hand his own hot and burning fingers. “I said I knew why you came here, Dunn,” continued he, more strongly; “it was to look at your work. Ay, just so. It was you brought me to this, and you wanted to see it. Turn your eyes round the room, and you 'll see it's poor enough. Look in at that bedroom there, and you 'll say it could n't be much more humble! I pawned my watch yesterday; there's all that's out of it;” and he showed some pieces of silver and copper mixed together in the palm of his hand; “there's not a silver spoon left, so that you see you 've done it well!”
“My dear Kellett, these words of yours have no meaning in them—”