In a splendid chamber, surrounded by every comfort and luxury that dollars could buy, and attended by liveried servants, Mr. Taine was dying.

The physician who met Mrs. Taine at the door, answered her look of inquiry with; "Your husband is very near the end, madam." Beside the bed, sat Louise, wringing her hands and moaning. James Rutlidge stood near. Without speaking, Mrs. Taine went forward.

The doctor, bending over his patient, with his fingers upon the skeleton-like wrist, said, "Mr. Taine, Mr. Taine, your wife is here."

In response, the eyes, deep sunken under the wrinkled brow, opened; the loosely hanging, sensual lips quivered.

The physician spoke again; "Your wife is here, Mr. Taine."

A sudden gleam of light flared up in the glazed eyes. The doctor could have sworn that the lips were twisted into a shadow of a ghastly, mocking smile. As if summoning, by a supreme effort of his will, from some unguessed depths of his being, the last remnant of his remaining strength, the man looked about the room and, in a hoarse whisper, said, "Send the others away--everybody--but her."

"O papa, papa!" exclaimed poor Louise, protestingly.

"Never mind, daughter," came the whispered answer from the bed. "Try to be game, girl--game as your father. Take her away, Jim."

As the physician passed Mrs. Taine, who had thus far stood like a statue, seemingly incapable of thought or feeling or movement, he said in a low tone, "I will be just outside the door, madam; easily within call."

When only the woman was left in the room with her husband, the dying man spoke again; "Come here. Stand where I can see you."

Mechanically, she obeyed; moving to a position near the foot of the bed.

After a moment's silence, during which he seemed to be rallying the very last of his vital forces for the effort, he said, "Well--the game is played--out. You think--you're the winner. You're--wrong--damn you--you're wrong. I wasn't--so drunk to-night that--I couldn't see." His face twisted in a hideous, malicious grin. "You--love--that artist fellow. Your--interest in his art is--all rot. It's _him_ you want--and you--you have been thinking--you'd get him--with my money--the same as I got you. But you won't. You've--lost him already. I'm glad--you love him--damn glad--because--I know that after--what he's seen of me--even if he didn't love--that mountain--girl, he wouldn't wipe--his feet on you. You've tortured me--you've mocked--and sneered and laughed--at me--in my suffering--you fiend--and I've--tried my damnedest--to pay you back. What I couldn't do--the man you love--will--do for me. You'll suffer--now in earnest. You thought you'd be a--sure winner--as soon--as I was out of--the game. But you've lost--you've lost--you've lost! I saw your love for him--in your--face to-night--as I have seen--it every time--you two were together. I saw his love--for the girl--too--and I--saw--that you--saw it. I--I--wouldn't--wouldn't die--until I'd told you--that I knew." He paused to gather his strength for the last evil effort of his evil life.

The woman--who had stood, frozen with horror, her eyes fixed upon the face of the dying man, as though under a dreadful spell--cowered before him, livid with fear. Cringing, helpless--as though before some infernal monster--she hid her face; while her husband, struggling for breath to make her hear, called her every foul name he could master--derided her with fiendish glee--mocked her, taunted her, cursed her--with words too vile to print. With an oath and a profane wish for her future upon his ............