e loved me," she continued; "one night when he
looked at me and touched my hand. But the next day he was cold again,
and I knew then that he didn't love me any more."

Marie lay for a few moments with a very thoughtful look in her eyes, but
she made no remark, and, after a while, she slept from weakness and
exhaustion.

Beth went out for a few hours next morning, and found her very much
weaker when she returned. Mrs. Bartram said she had tired herself
writing a letter. She had a wide-awake air as if she were watching for
something, and her ear seemed to catch every step on the stair-way. It
was toward the close of day.

"Hark! who's that?" she asked, starting.

"Only Mrs. Bartram. Rest, dearest," said Beth.

But the brilliant eyes were fixed on the door, and a moment later
Clarence entered the room. Marie still held Beth's hand, but her dark
eyes were fixed on Clarence with a look never to be forgotten.

"You have come at last," she said, then fell back on her pillows
exhausted, but smiling, her eyes closed.

He stood holding the frail hand she had stretched out to him, then the
dark eyes opened slowly, and she gazed on him with a yearning look.

"Put your hand upon my forehead, I shall die happier," she said, softly.
"Oh, Clarence, I loved you! I loved you! It can do no harm to tell you
now. Kiss me just once. In a moment I shall be with my God."

Beth had glided from the room, and left her alone with the man she
loved; but in a few minutes he called her and Mrs. Bartram to the
bed-side. Marie was almost past speaking, but she stretched forth her
arms to Beth and drew her young head down upon her breast. There was
silence for a few minutes, broken only by Marie's hoarse breathing.

"Jesus, my Redeemer," her pale lips murmured faintly, then the
heart-throbs beneath Beth's ear were still; the slender hand fell
helpless on the counterpane; the brilliant eyes were closed; Marie was
gone!

When Beth came to look at her again she lay smiling in her white,
flowing garment, a single lily in her clasped hands. Poor Marie! She had
loved and suffered, and now it was ended. Aye, but she had done more
than suffer. She had refused the man she loved for his sake and for the
sake of another. Her sacrifice had been in vain, but the love that
sacrificed itself--was that vain? Ah, no! Sweet, brave Marie!

Her friends thought it a strange request of hers to be buried at
Briarsfield, but it was granted. Her vast wealth--as sh