Presently, however, she became aware of a feeble moaning in the adjoining chamber, the sound of a human sea in trouble--mixed with a wandering babble, which to Letty was but as the voice of her own despair, and to Mary was a cry for help.

She abandoned the attempt to draw anything from Letty, and went into the next room, the door of which stood wide.

There lay Tom, but so changed that Mary took a moment to be certain it was he.

Going softly to him, she laid her hand on his head.

It was burning.