And the next instant she is kneeling beside Nameless and the weeping girl.
"Mary!" whispers Frank, and the young wife raises her face from her husband's forehead, and they gaze in each other's face,—a contrast which you do not often behold. The face of Frank, dark-hued at other times, and red with passion on the cheek and lip, but now, lividly pale, and only expressing the intensity of her organization in the lightning glance of the eyes,—the face of Mary, although touched by want and sorrow, bearing the look of a guileless, happy soul in every outline, and shining all the love of a pure woman's nature from the large, clear eyes. It was as though night and morning had met together.
"Mary!" said Frank,—her hand trembling, but her purpose firm,—"your husband will die unless aid is rendered at once. Let me revive him."
Before Mary can frame a word in reply, she places the vial to the lips of Nameless, and does not remove her hand until the last drop is emptied. Tarleton yonder watches the scene, with his head drooping on his breast, and his hand raised to his chin.
"He will revive presently," Frank exclaims with a smile.
"God bless you, generous woman,——"
But Frank does not wait to receive her thanks.
Returning to her father's side,—"Come, let us leave them, now," she whispers; "now that your request is obeyed."
"But he must not die in this house."
"O, you will have time, ample time to remove him before the vial has done its work,"—a bitter smile crosses her face,—"Leave them together for an hour at least. Let them at least enjoy one hour of life, before his eyes are closed in death; only one hour, father!"