u, that, while I live, I
shall never lay my head upon my pillow without having first committed
you to the mercy and loving care of that Guardian who never 'slumbers,
nor sleeps.' May God bless and guide you, my dear young friend, and if
not again in this world, grant that we may meet in the Everlasting
City of Peace. Little sister, be sure to meet me in the Kingdom of
Rest, where dear Janet waits for us both."

His calm eyes filled with tears, and his voice grew tremulous, as he
took Salome's cold, passive hand, and kissed it.

"Good-by, Dr. Grey; if I find my way to heaven, it will be because you
are there. When I am gone, let my name and memory be like that of the
dead."

She stood erect, with her fingers lying in his palm, and the ring of
her voice was like the clashing of steel against steel.

He bent down, and, for the first time, pressed his lips to her
forehead; then turned quickly and walked away. When he reached the
head of the stairs, he looked back and saw her standing in the door,
with the candle-light flaring over her face; and in after years, he
could never recall, without a keen pang, that vision of a girlish form
draped in mourning, and of fair, rigid features, which hope and
happiness could never again soften and brighten.

Her splendid eyes followed him, as if the sole light of her life were
passing away forever; and, with a heavy sigh, he hurried down the
steps, realizing all the mournful burden of that Portuguese sonnet,--

"Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore--
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine,
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two."

CHAPTER XXVI.

"I hope nothing has gone wrong, Robert? You look unusually forlorn and
doleful."

Dr. Grey stepped out of his buggy, and accosted the gardener, who was
leaning idly on the gate, holding a trowel in his hand, and lazily
puffing the smoke from his pipe.

"I thank you, sir; with us the world wags on pretty much the same,
but when a man has been plan