"Thank God!" echoed Julius Revington, in his weak tones, and then he added, plaintively: "Call the priest in now, I wish to take my solemn oath to the confession I have made."
At that moment Elaine gasped and opened her eyes. They fell upon Clarence Stuart, who bent over her wistfully regarding her.
"Elaine, my poor, wronged darling, what can we say to each other?" he whispered, mournfully.
She regarded him with grave, reproachful eyes.
"Nothing," she answered, firmly. "You forged other ties when you thought me dead. Be true to them."
She could not repress that little outburst of jealous reproach, pure and angelic as she was, and with the words she took Guy Kenmore's arm and passed from the room.
With a heavy sigh, Clarence Stuart bent over the dying man. Death had blotted out all resentment.
"My poor fellow, what can I do for you?" he inquired.
"Nothing, only leave me with the priest," he answered, heavily. "I want him to pray for me. I have done with the things of this world."
And when he had sworn solemnly to the truth of his confession, he bade his cousin a long and last farewell, and sent him from the room.