through Laurence Stanninghame's veins, and heart, pressed against heart,
seemed swelled to bursting point, he thought that life, even such as it
had been, was worth living if it could contain such a moment as this.
Equally, too, did he realize that, in life or in death, the triumph-joy
of this moment should illumine his memory, dark though it might be, for
ever and ever.

"What did you think of me when you got my note, dear one?" she whispered
at last. "And I have been in perfect agony ever since, for fear it
should be too late. But I could not let you go as I did this morning. I
felt such an irresistible craving to see you again, Laurence, my
darling, to hear your voice. I felt we could not part as we did--each
trying to deceive the other, each knowing, the while, that it was
impossible. I wanted more than that for a memory throughout the blank
time that is coming."

"Yes, we were both too strong, my Lilith. And why should we have been?
What scruple ever stood anybody to the good in this hell-fraud of a
state called 'Life'? Not one--not one! Yes, we were too strong, and your
self-command deceived even me."

"My self-command? Ah, Laurence, my darling, how little you knew! All the
time I was battling hard with myself, forcing down an irresistible
longing to do this--and this--and this!" And drawing down his head, she
kissed him, again and again, long, tender kisses, as though her whole
soul sought entrance into his.

"But I shall tire you, my dearest, if I keep you standing here like
this," she went on. "Come inside now, and our last talk--our last for a
long time--shall, at any rate, be a cosey one."

She drew him within the half open door of an adjoining room. The window
curtains were drawn, and a shaded lamp gave forth the same subdued and
chastened light as that which burned in the hall. There were flowers in
vases and sprays, arranged in every tasteful and delicate manner, and
distilling a fragrance subtile and pervading. The sumptuous prettiness
of the furniture and ornaments--picture frames encasing mystic and
thought-evoking subjects, books disposed here and there, delicate
embroidery, the work of her fingers--in short, the hundred and one
dainty knick-knacks pleasing to the eye--seemed to reflect the bright,
beautiful personality of Lilith; for, indeed, the arrangement and
disposal of them was almost entirely her own.

She made him sit down upon the softest and most comfortable couch; then,
as she seated