but it
will not matter soon whom I have loved, or who has loved me. Tell Neil,
when he comes and stands beside me, and I cannot speak to him, that I
loved him to the last, and if I had lived I would have been his wife
whenever he wished it; but it is better to die, for perhaps I could not
have borne the burden and the care again. I am so tired, and the rest
beyond the grave looks very sweet to me. You say Mr. Jerrold is here. I
should like to see him and thank him for his kindness."

Grey had not been to the room that morning, but he soon came and was
admitted to Bessie's presence. Smiling sweetly upon him as he came in,
Bessie said:

"I cannot offer you my hand, for I have no power to move it; the life
has all gone from me--see," and she tried in vain to lift one of the
thin, transparent hands which lay so helplessly just where Flossie had
put them.

"Don't try," Grey said, sitting down beside her, and placing one of his
own broad, warm palms upon the little hands, as if he would thus
communicate to them some of his own strength and vitality. "I am glad to
find you better," he continued; but Bessie shook her head and answered
him:

"Sane, but not better. I shall never be that; but I want to thank you
for all you have done for us--for mother and me. You were with me when
father died I remember all you did for me then, and I prayed God to
bless you for it many a time; and now, I am going where father has
gone, and shall sleep by him in the little yard at home, for they will
take me back; mother has promised--I could not rest here in Rome, lovely
as the grave-yard is. Flossie told me you were to leave to-morrow, and I
wanted to say good-by, and tell you how much good you have done me,
though you do not know it. Neil told me once of your resolve to make
somebody happy every day, and I have never forgotten it, and have in my
poor way tried to do so, too, in imitation of you, but have failed so
miserably; while you--oh, Mr. Jerrold, you are so noble and good. You
have made so many happy. God bless you, and give you everything which
you desire most."

She was too much exhausted to talk any more, and closing her eyes, she
lay as if asleep, while Grey watched her with the bitterest pain in his
heart he had ever known. Would she die? Must he give her up? Was there
yet no brightness, no happiness in the world for her, whose life had
been one of sacrifice and toil? He could not think so, and all his soul
went out in one con