“She knew you?” whispered Pierre.
“Yes, but this fever came on.” He turned and looked at her, and, kneeling, smoothed away the hair from the quiet face. “Poor girl!” he said; “poor girl!”
“She will get well?” asked Pierre.
“God grant it!” Fingall replied. “She is better—better.”
Lawless and Pierre softly turned and stole away, leaving the man alone with the woman he loved.
The two stood in silence, looking upon the river beneath. Presently a voice crept through the stillness. “Fingall! Oh, Fingall!—Fingall!”
It was the voice of a woman returning from the dead.
THREE COMMANDMENTS IN THE VULGAR TONGUE
I