"Read that," rejoined Austin, pointing to the placard. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. His heart beat wildly and he was afraid lest the strain be too much; but the girl shook her head and smiled and pointed to the top of the mountain. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. ’ ‘Your plan, then. . His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. I want you to hold me and have me SO. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands.
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