ther hand across her bosom and
ere long fell asleep to wake no more.

The moon arose and shed its sad, quiet light through the half turned
shutters, through the window pane. It seemed to force its way in in
order to linger and weep over such queenly beauty, such worth, meeting
with such an accursed end.

Thus in this forbidden path Viola Martin had gone to him who said:
"Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest."

CHAPTER XIV

MARRIED AND YET NOT MARRIED. (Continued.)

At ten o'clock on the next day, Bernard called at Viola's residence.
Viola's mother invited him in and informed him that Viola had not
arisen. Thinking that her daughter had spent much of the night in
meditating on whatever was troubling her, She had thought not to
awaken her so early. Bernard informed her that Viola had made an
engagement with him for that morning at ten o'clock. Mrs. Martin
looked alarmed. She knew that Viola was invariably punctual to an
appointment and something unusual must be the matter. She left
the room hurriedly and her knees smote together as she fancied she
discovered the scent of escaping gas. She clung to the banisters for
support and dragged her way to Viola's door. As she drew near, the
smell of gas became unmistakable, and she fell forward, uttering a
loud scream. Bernard had noticed the anxious look on Viola's mother's
face and was listening eagerly. He beard her scream and dashed out
of the parlor and up the stairs. He rushed past Mrs. Martin and burst
open the door to Viola's door. He drew back aghast at the sight
that met his gaze. The next instant he had seized her lifeless form,
beautiful in death, and smothered those silent lips with kisses.

Mrs. Martin regained sufficient strength to rush into the room, and
when she saw her child was dead uttered a succession of piercing
shrieks and fell to the floor in a swoon.

This somewhat called Bernard's mind from his own grief. He lay Viola
down upon her own bed most tenderly and set about to restore Mrs.
Martin to consciousness. By this time the room was full of anxious
neighbors.

While they are making inquiry let us peruse the letters which the poor
girl left behind.

"MY DEAR, DEAR, HEART-BROKEN MAMA:--

"I am in the hands of God. Whatever He does is just, is right,
is the only thing to be done. Knowing this, do not grieve
after me. Take poor Bernard for your son and love him as you
did me. I