te life at a lifeless loom."

Slowly the hours wore away, and at noon Elsie's body was placed in
the coffin and left on a table in the room opposite the parlor.

It was two o'clock when Dr. Grey came up the steps, looking more
fatigued than Salome had ever seen him. He sat down beside her on the
gallery, and sighed as he caught a glimpse of the men who were
bricking up the grave that yawned on the right hand side of the lawn.

"Where is Mrs. Gerome?"

"In the parlor. Once I heard her pacing the floor very rapidly, and
saying something to her dog. Since then--two hours ago--not a sound
has reached me."

"She has taken no food?"

"No, sir. The servant who prepared her breakfast knocked twice at the
door, but was refused admittance."

Dr. Grey went into the hall, and rapped vigorously on the door, but
there was no movement within.

"Mrs. Gerome, please permit me to speak to you for a few minutes. If
it were not necessary, I would not disturb you."

The appeal produced no effect; and, without hesitating, he walked to
the door of the library or rear parlor,--took the key from his pocket,
opened it, and entered.

The dog was asleep on the velvet rug before the hearth, and his
mistress sat at her escritoire, with her arms resting on the blue
desk, and her face hidden upon them. A number of letters and papers
were scattered about, and, in an open drawer a silver casket was
visible, with a pearl key in its lock.

Before the marble Harpocrates stood two slender violet-colored
Venetian glasses, representing tulips, and filled with fuchsias and
clematis that were dropping their faded velvet petals, and the
atmosphere was sweet with the breath of carnations and mignonette
blooming in the south window.

Dr. Grey hoped that Mrs. Gerome had fallen asleep; but when he bent
over her, he saw in the mirror above her that the large, bright eyes
were gazing vacantly into the recess of the desk.

She noticed his image reflected in the glass, and instantly sat
upright, spreading her hands over her papers as if to screen them. He
drew a chair near hers, and put his finger on her pulse, which
throbbed so rapidly he could scarcely count it.

"Have you slept at all, since I left you this morning?"

"No."

"You promised that you would not attempt to destroy yourself."

"I have kept my word."

"Yes; you 'keep it to our ear, and break it to our hope,' for you must
know that unless you take some rest and refreshment, you will b