” “Can’t we arrange something? Can’t we make a sort of treaty?” “He wouldn’t keep it. He has often told me that if he could play sober, he would go to America and reap a fortune. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip.
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