He made but a brief stay, and was followed out of the room by Mrs Lane.

"Sit down again, Richard," said the girl, fondly. "Take those," she
said, pointing to a pair of scissors on the table. "Now cut off that
long piece of hair."

As she spoke she separated a long, dark brown tress and smilingly bent
towards him as he divided it from her head.

"There," she said, smiling, as she knotted it together like so much
silk; "give that to Tiny--some day--and tell her it was sent by one who
had prayed night and day for her happiness and yours."

"Oh, my poor child!" groaned Richard, as he placed her gift in his
pocket-book.

"And, Richard, when you are happy together, talk about me sometimes;
you'll bring her to see where they have laid me--where I lie asleep?"

"For God's sake, do not talk like this, my darling!" he exclaimed; "I
cannot bear it!"

"I must," she said, excitedly. "I must, the time is so short. Tell
her, Richard," she whispered, earnestly, "that I loved you very dearly;
for I did not know then about her. But tell her it was so innocent and
dear a love, that I think God's angels would not blame me for it. I
would not talk so now, Richard, but I am dying."

He started up to run for help, but she feebly restrained him.

"No, no, don't go; it is not yet," she whispered. "Stay with me even
when it's growing dark. Promise me you will stay and hold my hand till
the last. I shall not feel so afraid then, and I don't think it can be
wrong. I used to think once about you, so strong and brave; how in the
future you would take care of me, and that I should never be afraid
again. Then I used to sit and whisper your name, and stop from my work
to kiss the flowers you sent me, every leaf and every blossom, and
whisper to it, `You are my darling's gift.' Was this wrong of me? I
could not help it. No one knew, and I have been so different to others.
My life has been all work and sorrow--her sorrow--and those were my
happy moments."

"My poor darling!" was all he could utter; and the words came like a
groan.

"Don't trouble about it," she whispered; "I'm not sorry to die. You
have made me so happy. I feel as if I may take those tender words from
you now, Richard. You called me darling twice to-night. Kiss me once
again."

Tiny's name was on his lips as he bent over her, and raised the little
frail form in his arms; and hers were wreathed around his neck as he
pressed his lips to hers twice--lips