The girl started, and a flush of surprise went over her face.

"He is in the parlor now. Won't you ask him to come up?" added the
dying maiden, still speaking with the utmost composure.

Her friend stood surprised and hesitating for some moments, and then
turning away, glided from the chamber. She found the aunt and Mr.
Florence in the passage below, the latter pleading with the former
for the privilege of seeing Edith, which was resolutely denied.

"Edith wants to see Mr. Florence," said the girl, as she joined
them.

"Who told her that he was here?" quickly asked the aunt.

"No one. I did not know it myself."

"Her heart told her that I was here," exclaimed Mr. Florence--and,
as he spoke, he glided past the aunt, and, with hurried steps,
ascended to the chamber where the dying one lay. The eyes of Edith
were turned towards the door as he entered; but no sign of emotion
passed over her countenance. Overcome by his feelings, at the sight
of the shadowy remnant of one so loved and so wronged, the young man
sunk into a chair by her side, as nerveless as a child; and, as his
lips were pressed upon her lips and cheeks, her face was wet with
his tears.

Coming in quickly after, the aunt took firmly hold of his arm and
sought to draw him away, but, in a steady voice, the invalid said--

"No--no. I was waiting for him. I have expected him for days. I knew
he would come; and he is here now."

All was silence for many minutes; and during this time Edwin
Florence sat with his face covered, struggling to command his
feelings. At a motion from the dying girl, the aunt and friend
retired, and she was alone with the lover who had been false to his
vows. As the door closed behind them, Edwin looked up. He had grown
calm. With a voice of inexpressible tenderness, he said--

"Live for me, Edith."

"Not here," was answered. "The silver chord will soon be loosened
and the golden bowl broken."

"Oh, say not that! Let me call you back to life. Turn to me again as
I have turned to you with my whole heart. The world is still
beautiful; and in it we will be happy together."

"No, Edwin," replied the dying maiden. "The history of my days here
is written, and the angel is about sealing the record. I am going
where the heart will never feel the touch of sorrow. I wished to see
you once more before I died; and you are here. I have, once more,
felt your breath upon my cheek; once more held your hand in mine.
For this my heart is g