few days you will surely be better."

"No, Virgie, it is useless to build upon false hopes. I shall never be any
better. My work is done. I shall go no more to my claim, and I have
decided to dispose of it to the first one who will offer me a fair price
for it. But, dear child, if it were not for you I believe I should be glad
to know that my saddened life is almost at an end. I----"

The weary voice quivered and failed here, and the man sank back in his
chair with a bitter sigh.

The young girl, her own face now blanched to the hue of death, laid down
her work, arose, and moved swiftly to her father's side, where she knelt
by his chair.

"Papa, do not talk so. You must not leave me," she cried, in a voice of
agony. "I cannot spare you. There must be something to help you--to build
up your strength. Let us go back home, where you can have the best medical
advice."

The man sat up in his chair, stopping her with a gesture almost of
despair.

"Home!" he cried, hoarsely. "Virgie, we have no home but this. You know
that I am already the same as dead to every one but you; that even our
real name is sunk in oblivion."

"But, papa, you must try to live for my sake," Virgie cried, clasping her
trembling hands about his emaciated arm, and shuddering as she felt how
frail it was. "If you will not go back, let me at least send for Dr.