it; and then he prayed
fervently, that, if possible, God would give back the life now ebbing so
low, and that he yet might win the prize he longed for so ardently.

"Oh, Bessie, poor, little tired Bessie," he whispered, as he gently
touched one of the hands near him; "if I might call you mine, might take
you to my home across the sea, how happy I would make you. I cannot let
you die just as I know how much I love you, and something tells me you
will yet be mine. We should all love you so much, my mother, Aunt Lucy,
Aunt Hannah, and all."

And then suddenly, as his mind leaped to the future, Grey seemed to see
the old farm-house in the rocky pasture-land far away, and Bessie was
there with him, sitting just where he had so often sat when a child, on
the little bench in the wood-shed close against the wall, beyond which
was that hidden grave whose shadow had, in a way, darkened his whole
life. And it fell upon him now with an added blackness as he thought:

"Could I take Bessie and not tell her of that grave? I don't know; but
God will help me to do right, and all things will seem possible if He
gives Bessie to me."

She was breathing a little more heavily now; she might be waking; he
must kiss her good-by before she was conscious of the act, and bending
over her he kissed her forehead and lips and cheeks, on which his hot
tears fell fast.

"Good-by, my darling," he whispered. "In this world you may never know
how much I love you, but in the next, perhaps, I may be permitted to
tell you how it broke my heart to see you lying so low and to know that
I must leave you. Darling Bessie, good-by;" and with another kiss upon
her lips he lifted up his head to meet the wondering gaze of the blue
eyes, in which for an instant there was a puzzled, startled expression,
then they filled with tears, and Bessie's lips quivered as she said:

"Don't, Mr. Jerrold, such words are not for me. I--don't you know?"

She hesitated a moment, and he said:

"I know nothing except that I love you with my whole heart and soul, and
whether you live or die you will be the sweetest memory of my life.
Don't talk; it is not necessary," he continued rapidly, as he saw her
about to speak. "I am not going to trouble you now; you are too weak for
that. I am here to say good-by, for I must leave to-morrow; but in the
future, when you are well, as something tells me you will be--"

"Oh, Mr. Jerrold, listen," Bessie began, just as the door opened and