of a mind laboring under some unnatural
excitement, and wholly at variance with the true character of Elsie
Venner as he saw her before him in her subdued, yet singular beauty. He
looked with almost scientific closeness of observation into the diamond
eyes; but that peculiar light which he knew so well was not there. She
was the same in one sense as on that first day when he had seen her
coiling and uncoiling her golden chain; yet how different in every
aspect which revealed her state of mind and emotion! Something of
tenderness there was, perhaps, in her tone towards him; she would not
have sent for him, had she not felt more than an ordinary interest in
him. But through the whole of his visit she never lost her gracious
self-possession. The Dudley race might well be proud of the last of
its daughters, as she lay dying, but unconquered by the feeling of the
present or the fear of the future.

As for Mr. Bernard, he found it very hard to look upon her, and
listen to her unmoved. There was nothing that reminded him of the
stormy--browed, almost savage girl he remembered in her fierce
loveliness,--nothing of all her singularities of air and of costume.
Nothing? Yes, one thing. Weak and suffering as she was, she had never
parted with one particular ornament, such as a sick person would
naturally, as it might be supposed, get rid of at once. The golden cord
which she wore round her neck at the great party was still there. A
bracelet was lying by her pillow; she had unclasped it from her wrist.

Before Mr. Bernard left her, she said,

"I shall never see you again. Some time or other, perhaps, you will
mention my name to one whom you love. Give her this from your scholar
and friend Elsie."

He took the bracelet, raised her hand to his lips, then turned his face
away; in that moment he was the weaker of the two.

"Good-bye," she said; "thank you for coming."

His voice died away in his throat, as he tried to answer her. She
followed him with her eyes as he passed from her sight through the
door, and when it closed after him sobbed tremulously once or twice,
but stilled herself, and met Helen, as she entered, with a composed
countenance.

"I have had a very pleasant visit from Mr. Langdon," Elsie said. "Sit
by me, Helen, awhile without speaking; I should like to sleep, if I
can,--and to dream."

CHAPTER XXX. THE GOLDEN CORD IS LOOSED.

The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, hearing that his parishioner's
daughter,