d man has, that the sacred passion, the inmost tenderness of his
love, should be kept wholly between himself and the woman he has chosen.

I knew that too; knew that in his heart had grown up a secret, a
necessity, a desire, stronger than any friendship--closer than the
closest bond of brotherly love. Perhaps--I hardly know why--I sighed.

John turned round--"Phineas, you must not think--because of this--which
you will understand for yourself, I hope, one day; you must not think I
could ever think less, or feel less, about my brother."

He spoke earnestly, with a full heart. We clasped hands warmly and
silently. Thus was healed my last lingering pain--I was thenceforward
entirely satisfied.

I think we parted that night as we had never parted before; feeling
that the trial of our friendship--the great trial, perhaps, of any
friendship--had come and passed, safely: that whatever new ties might
gather round each, our two hearts would cleave together until death.

The next morning rose, as I have seen many a morning rise at
Enderley--misty and grey; but oh, so heavenly fair! with a pearly
network of dewy gossamer under foot, and overhead countless thistle
downs flying about, like fairy chariots hurrying out of sight of the
sun, which had only mounted high enough above the Flat to touch the
horizon of hills opposite, and the tops of my four poplars, leaving
Rose Cottage and the valley below it all in morning shadow. John
called me to go with him on the common; his voice sounded so cheerful
outside my door that it was with a glad heart I rose and went.

He chose his old walk--his "terrace." No chance now of meeting the
light figure coming tripping along the level hill. All that dream was
now over. He did not speak of it--nor I. He seemed contented--or, at
least, thoroughly calmed down; except that the sweet composure of his
mien had settled into the harder gravity of manhood. The crisis and
climax of youth had been gone through--he never could be a boy again.

We came to that part of John's terrace which overhung the churchyard.
Both of us glanced instinctively down to the heap of loose red
earth--the as yet nameless grave. Some one stood beside it--the only
one who was likely to be there.

Even had I not recognized her, John's manner would have told me who it
was. A deadly paleness overspread his face--its quietness was
gone--every feature trembled. It almost broke my heart to see how
deeply this love h