on't you believe me?"

Another longer pause, and the words came trembling forth: "If it
_could_ be so!"

"It _is_ so. It has been already proved." He took her hand gently: she
permitted it to lie in his, and silence, the language of full hearts,
ministered between them.

She broke it finally by the whispered question, "You are quite, quite
sure that these warnings are not peculiar--that science can account
for them?"

"On my honor, yes."

"I want to believe--I do believe you. I will risk my life for you:
I--I--I love you, Maurice."

"My darling!"

She was very quiet, even sad, that evening. Conversation seemed an
effort, and after some vain attempts to shake off her depression she
hastily retired. After a long search Grey found her walking in one of
the alleys of the garden, and could perceive by her tones that she had
been weeping.

"In a very few days you will laugh at these pet superstitions. Do not
indulge this mood: come and walk," he said persuasively.

"You are cruel."

"Indeed it is for your good."

"Maurice, do you think we are justified in thus tempting Fate?"

He smiled at her as if she were a child: "I have no doubts."

Her eyes shone solemnly as she replied, "Then lead me, even to death."

"To life--to a happy life, dear Fay." He put her unresisting hand on
his arm and led her to the door of her room: "Sleep, my darling, and
to-morrow you will feel more tranquil."

The next day the young man congratulated himself: Fay was as bright as
if evil could never touch her. On passing him at the breakfast-table
she whispered, "I defy Fate."

But the struggle was not yet over: the old fear and the new love
fought a hard battle. A fortnight of these alternate lights and
shadows passed. In his presence the poor girl tried to put on a brave
face, but what she endured when alone could be seen in her loss of
flesh and color. Sometimes the doctor almost repented having brought
this misery upon her, but he comforted himself by looking forward to
the calm which must surely follow this storm.

One morning, Miss Lafitte not appearing at her usual time, Maurice
became alarmed. Fearing she might be ill, he went to her parlor to
inquire: his knock was responded to by Jane, who gave him a note
evidently written in expectation of his coming. It ran thus: "Meet me
this evening at seven on the rock that you know." Of course he knew
the place: it was where she had acknowledged her love.

As may be supposed, th