"The disease has gone too far," he answered. "Moreover, it is impossible
to save one who seeks to die."

"Why does she seek to die?" blurted Anthony, glaring at him.

"Perhaps, young gentleman, you are in a better position to answer that
question than I am," replied the doctor, who knew of Anthony's cruel
conduct to his mother and had reproached him with it, not once but on
several occasions.

"You mean that I have killed her," said Anthony savagely.

"No," replied the doctor, "she is dying of tuberculosis of the lungs.
What were the primary causes which induced that disease I cannot be
sure. All I said was that she appears to welcome it, or rather its
issue. And I will add this on my own account, that when she does die the
world will lose one of the sweetest women that ever walked upon it. Good
morning."

"I know what he means," said Anthony to himself, as he watched the
retreating form. "He means that I have murdered her, and perhaps I
have. She is sick of me and wants to get back to my father, who was
so different. That's why she won't go on living when she might. She is
committing suicide--of a holy sort. Well, what made me a brute and her
an angel? And when she's gone how will the brute get on without the
angel? Why should I be filled with fury and wickedness and she of whom
I was born with sweetness and light? Let God or the devil answer that
if they can. My mother, oh! my mother!" and this violent, sinister youth
hid his face in his hands and wept.