ver
meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures
that we are!"

She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all
their one mad day as she loved him now.

"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!--what would you do?"

There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of
fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that.

"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said
it was not life but death--and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I
thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal--though you are
betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are _my wife_! And our
wedding-journey shall be eternal--through stars, Opal, and
worlds--far-off, glimmering worlds--our freed spirits together, always
together--together!"

She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound.

"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will
gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!"

Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great
longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit.

"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the
cost of love--'_Sorrow and death!_' We have had the sorrow, God knows!
And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for
eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!"

She kissed him--obediently, solemnly--and then, holding her to him,
drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had
driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its
hilt through her heart.

She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with
"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes,
she murmured, "In--life--and--in--death ... beloved! beloved!"

And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep,"
her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh.

He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless
words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And
he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds.
And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent
passion. But _his_ passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh
of triumph.

No one could take her from him now--no one! His darling was his--his
wife--in life and in death!

He laid her down upon the be