hyard in the country. The shadows of the trees rested on the lonely
graves. And some great poet had written--oh, such beautiful words
about it. _The red-breast loves to build and warble there, And little
footsteps lightly print the ground._ Promise, Ovid, you will take me
to some place, far from crowds and noise--where children may gather the
flowers on my grave."

He promised--and she thanked him, and rested again.

"There was something else," she said, when the interval had passed. "My
head is so sleepy. I wonder whether I can think of it?"

After a while, she did think of it.

"I want to make you a little farewell present. Will you undo my gold
chain? Don't cry, Ovid! oh, don't cry!"

He obeyed her. The gold chain held the two lockets--the treasured
portraits of her father and her mother. "Wear them for my sake," she
murmured. "Lift me up; I want to put them round your neck myself."
She tried, vainly tried, to clasp the chain. Her head fell back on his
breast. "Too sleepy," she said; "always too sleepy now! Say you love me,
Ovid."

He said it.

"Kiss me, dear."

He kissed her.

"Now lay me down on the pillow. I'm not eighteen yet--and I feel as old
as eighty! Rest; all I want is rest." Looking at him fondly, her eyes
closed little by little--then softly opened again. "Don't wait in this
dull room, darling; I will send for you, if I wake."

It was the only wish of hers that he disobeyed. From time to time, his
fingers touched her pulse, and felt its feeble beat. From time to time,
he stooped and let the faint coming and going of her breath flutter
on his cheek. The twilight fell, and darkness began to gather over the
room. Still, he kept his place by her, like a man entranced.

CHAPTER LIX.

The first trivial sound that broke the spell, was the sound of a match
struck in the next room.

He rose, and groped his way to the door. Teresa had ventured upstairs,
and had kindled a light. Some momentary doubt of him kept the nurse
silent when he looked at her. He stammered, and stared about him
confusedly, when he spoke.

"Where--where--?" He seemed to have lost his hold on his thoughts--he
gave it up, and tried again. "I want to be alone," he said; recovering,
for the moment, some power of expressing himself.

Teresa's first fear of him vanished. She took him by the hand like a
child, and led him downstairs to his rooms. He stood silently watching
her, while she lit the candles.

"When Carmina sle