She even got up and tottered across to Willie.
"Willie!--Willie!--Oh! look, miss, he's got his animals--he don't think of nothing else.

Oh, Willie! won't you think of your father ?--you'll never have a father, Willie, not after to-night!" The boy was startled by her appearance there beside him--his haggard, dishevelled mother, with the dews of perspiration standing on the face, and her black dress thrown open at the throat and breast for air.

He looked at her, and a little frown lined the white brow.

But he did not speak.

Marcella thought he was too weak to speak, and for an instant it struck her with a thrill of girlish fear that he was dying then and there--that night--that hour.