be so cruel! Surely you wish to stay longer with me! Why need we be
parted yet! Think of it, dear--that it is for my sake, and your
father's and Theo's. If it is a sacrifice, it is a sacrifice for those
you love. Oh, David, my David, it is such a little thing I ask--just
for us to be a few months longer together. I know how you hated going
abroad, and I would not have pressed it for worlds; but Ventnor--oh,
David, you cannot have the heart to refuse me!" And Elizabeth broke
down utterly and hid her face in her hands.

Perhaps it was as well that she did not see David's expression that
moment; as he lay back upon his pillows his face was deathly. Why did
they ask this of him? He was just growing more resigned and peaceful.
Those agonised prayers of his for aid and succour had been answered,
and the deep blessedness of an accepted cross seemed to fill his soul
with a strange calm. He must die, and he knew it; but his Heavenly
Father had been merciful to him, and death had lost its terrors; and
now his longing was to die in the village he had chosen as his home,
and under the shadow of the church where he had ministered as God's
priest.

He knew where they would lay him: he and Elizabeth had chosen his last
resting-place, and she had listened dry-eyed to his simple directions
and wishes. He had talked out his heart to her, and her unselfish
sympathy had been his greatest comfort. But now she was asking this
sacrifice of him, and how was he to refuse her? And yet, if Elizabeth
had guessed how the thought of that exile filled him with dismay and
desolation, she would surely have denied her own craving for a few more
weeks of life. But David knew better than to tell her.

Presently the hot hand was laid on her head.

"Elizabeth, let me see your dear face. You and my father shall have
your way, darling; I will go to Ventnor." David's breathing was so
laboured that he was obliged to stop here; but Elizabeth, with a cry of
joy, threw her arms round him.

"Oh, David dear, thank you--thank you! You have made me so happy!" and
the smile he loved so well beamed through her tears. But David's
answering smile was rather forced.

"There is little cause for thankfulness," he replied wearily--"a poor
helpless invalid who will only give you trouble! But there is one thing
you must promise, dearest." And, as she looked at him expectantly, he
whispered, "You must promise to bring me back here." Then Elizabeth
bowed her head in sile