that Clarence had said to Marie, and he fancied it may, after all, have
been mere nonsense. Surely he could not have ceased to love Beth! Surely
he could not be blind to her merits! Arthur saw only too truly how weak,
emotional and changeable Clarence was, but it was not his place to
interfere with those whom God had joined. So he argued to himself.

But the night was passing, and Beth still lay there, no tear on her cold
white cheeks. The clock struck one, a knell-like sound in the night!
Beth lay there, her hands folded on her breast, the prayer unuttered by
her still lips--one for death. The rest were sleeping quietly in their
beds. They knew nothing of her suffering. They would never know. Oh, if
that silent messenger would but come now, and still her weary heart!
They would come in the morning to look at her. Yes; Clarence would come,
too. Perhaps he would love her just a little then. Perhaps he would
think of her tenderly when he saw her with the white roses in her hands.
Oh, was there a God in heaven who could look down on her sorrow
to-night, and not in pity call her home? She listened for the call that
would bear her far beyond this earthly strife, where all was such tangle
and confusion. She listened, but she heard it not, and the darkness
deepened, the moon grew pale and the stars faded away. The house was so
still! The whistle of a steam-engine broke the silence, and she saw the
red light as the train swept around the curve. It was bearing Arthur
away, and she did not know that one who loved her had been so near! Then
she saw a grey gleam in the east. Ah, no! she could not die. The day was
coming again, and she would have to face them all. She would sit in the
same place at the breakfast table. She would meet Clarence again, and
Marie--oh--oh, she could not bear the thought of it! She sat up on her
bedside with such a weary, anguished look in her eyes! Then she went to
kneel at the open window, where her mother had taught her to kneel long
years ago. Her sweet-faced, long-dead mother! When she raised her eyes
again the east was all aglow with the pink and purple dawn, and the
rooks were cawing in the pines across the meadow. She paced the floor
for a moment or two.

"Yes, it must be done. I will do it," she thought. "He loves her. I will
not stand in the way of his happiness. No; I had rather die."

And she took a sheet of note-paper, and wrote these simple words:

"DEAR CLARENCE,--I do not believe yo