is
nature is sociable, and he wants sympathy in it."

"I know what you mean, Raymond," said Anne; "I do mean to try to do
right--"

"I know, I know," said he, getting a little excited, and speaking
eagerly; "but don't let right blind you, Anne, if you censure and
keep from all he likes--if you will be a recluse and not a woman--
he--don't be offended, Anne; but if you leave him to himself, then
will every effort be made to turn him from you. You don't believe
me."

"My dear Raymond, don't speak so eagerly," as his cheeks flushed.

"I must! I can't see his happiness and yours wrecked like mine. Go
with him, Anne. Don't leave him to be poisoned. Mesmerism has its
power over whoever has been under the spell. And he has--he has!
She will try to turn him against you and mother."

"Hush, Raymond! Indeed I will be on my guard. There's no one
there. What are you looking at?"

"Camilla!" he said, with eyes evidently seeing something. "Camilla!
Is it not enough to have destroyed _one_ peace?"

"Raymond, indeed there is no one here."

But he had half raised himself. "Yes, Camilla, you have had your
revenge. Let it be enough. No--no; I forgive you; but I forbid you
to touch her."

He grasped Anne's arm with one hand, and stretched the other out as
though to warn some one away. The same moment there was another
outburst of the bleeding. Anne rang for help with one hand, and
held him as best she could. It lasted long; and when it was over he
was manifestly dying. "It is coming," he said; looking up to
Julius. "Pray! Only first--my love to Cecil. I hope she is still
young enough not to have had all her life spoilt. Is her father
coming?"

"To-morrow," said Anne.

"That's well. Poor child! she is better free."

How piteously sad those words of one wedded but a year! How unlike
the look that met his mother's woeful yet tender eyes, as she held
his hand. She would aid him through that last passage as through
all before, only a word of strong and tender love, as he again
looked up to Julius and Anne, as if to put her in their keeping, and
once more murmured something of "Love to sweet Rose! Now, Julius,
pray!"

An ever dutiful man, there was no wandering in look or tone. He
breathed 'Amen' once or twice, but never moved again, only his eyes
still turned on his mother, and so in its time came the end.

Old Susan saw at first that the long fluttering gasp had no
successor, and her touch certifi