l,
how much you have suffered!"

"Well, now, John, I know perfectly well that I have never been the
wife that I ought to be to you. You know it too; so don't try to say
anything about it. I was never the woman to have made you happy; and
it was not fair in me to marry you. I have lived a dreadfully worldly,
selfish life. And now, John, I am come to the end. You dear good man,
your trials with me are almost over; but I want you to know that you
really have succeeded. John, I do love you now with all my heart,
though I did not love you when I married you. And, John, I do feel
that God will take pity on me, poor and good for nothing as I am, just
because I see how patient and kind you have always been to me when I
have been so very provoking. You see it has made me think how good God
must be,--because, dear, we know that he is better than the best of
us."

"O Lillie, Lillie!" said John, leaning over her, and taking her in his
arms, "do live, I want you to live. Don't leave me now, now that you
really love me!"

"Oh, no, John! it is best as it is,--I think I should not have
strength to be _very_ good, if I were to get well; and you would still
have your little cross to carry. No, dear, it is all right. And, John,
you will have the best of me in our Lillie. She looks like me: but,
John, she has your good heart; and she will be more to you than I
could be. She is just as sweet and unselfish as I _was_ selfish. I
don't think I am quite so bad now; and I think, if I lived, I should
try to be a great deal better."

"O Lillie! I cannot bear to part with you! I never have ceased to love
you; and I never have loved any other woman."

"I know that, John. Oh! how much truer and better you are than I have
been! But I like to think that you love me,--I like to think that you
will be sorry when I am gone, bad as I am, or _was_; for I insist on
it that I am a little better than I was. You remember that story of
Undine you read me one day? It seems as if most of my life I have been
like Undine before her soul came into her. But this last year I have
felt the coming in of a soul. It has troubled me; it has come with a
strange kind of pain. I have never suffered so much. But it has done
me good--it has made me feel that I have an immortal soul, and that
you and I, John, shall meet in some better place hereafter.--And there
you will be rewarded for all your goodness to me."

As John sat there, and held the little frail hand, his thou