scarcely
begun?

"Yes, I will end, since, perhaps, you will never see it.

"When I have sealed it, I mean to hold it in my clasped hands, and so
pray the Almighty to take it safe to you, and to bring you safe to him
who can never know peace nor joy till he sees you once more.

"Your devoted and anxious lover,

"ARTHUR WARDLAW."

Helen Rolleston read this letter more than once. She liked it none the
less for being disconnected and unbusiness-like. She had seen her
Arthur's business letters; models of courteous conciseness. She did not
value such compositions. This one she did. She smiled over it, all
beaming and blushing; she kissed it, and read it again, and sat with it
in her lap.

But by and by her mood changed, and, when Mr. Hazel ventured upon deck
again, he found her with her forehead sinking on her extended arm, and
the lax hand of that same arm holding the letter. She was crying.

The whole drooping attitude was so lovely, so feminine, yet so sad, that
Hazel stood irresolute, looking wistfully at her.

She caught sight of him, and, by a natural impulse, turned gently away,
as if to hide her tears. But the next moment she altered her mind, and
said, with a quiet dignity that came naturally to her at times, "Why
should I hide my care from you, sir? Mr. Hazel, may I speak to you _as a
clergyman?"_

"Certainly," said Mr. Hazel, in a somewhat faint voice.

She pointed to a seat, and he sat down near her.

She was silent for some time; her lip quivered a little; she was
struggling inwardly for that decent composure which on certain occasions
distinguishes the lady from the mere woman; and it was with a pretty firm
voice she said what follows:

"I am going to tell you a little secret; one I have kept from my own
father. It is--that I have not very long to live."

Her hazel eye rested calmly on his face while she said these words
quietly.

He received them with amazement at first; amazement that soon deepened
into horror. "What do you mean?" he gasped. "What words are these?"

"Thank you for minding so much," said she sweetly. "I will tell you. I
have fits of coughing, not frequent, but violent; and then blood very
often comes from my lungs. That is a bad sign, you know. I have been so
for four months now, and I am a good deal wasted; my hand used to be very
plump; look at it now. Poor Arthur!"

She turned away her head to drop a gentle, unselfish tear or two; and
Hazel stared with increasing alarm