w, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to the
beloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent the
face was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture of
that lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to
his eyes.

"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost a
wife on his wedding-day?"

Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or
so bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken.

Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even his
mother was to be taken from him.

The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wandering
thoughts.

"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly, "my moments are precious."

He felt his mother's arms clasp closely round his neck.

"Go on, mother," he said, gently.

"Rex, my son," she whispered, gaspingly, "I could not die and leave
the words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me.
Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and now
all rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the
last request I have to ask."

For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like a
sword in his heart.

"Surely, mother, you do not mean--you do not think I could ever--"

The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman him.

"You will marry again," she interrupted, finishing the sentence he
could not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would not
have asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speak
now."

"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. My
heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!"

Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook with
agitation.

He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, to
realize the full import of the words she had spoken.

Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for a
single instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of little
Daisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly loved, lying pale and
still in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pit
which never yielded up its terrible secrets!

"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspense
heart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer I
had ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plunge
a d