ir by your side has not
been sat in since Colonel Japha rose from it twelve years ago to totter
to the bed where he breathed his last. It is waiting, everything is
waiting. I thought the end had come to-night, that the vigil was over,
the watch finished, but God in his wisdom says, 'No,' and I must wait a
little longer. Alas in a little while longer the end will be here
indeed!"

The despondency with which she uttered these last words showed where her
thoughts were tending, and to comfort her, Paula drew up a chair and sat
down by her side. "You were going to tell me the story of a great love
and a great devotion. Cannot you do so now?"

The woman started, glanced hastily around, and let her eyes travel to
Paula's face where they rested with something of their old look of
secret longing and doubt.

"You are the one who wrote the poem," she murmured; "I remember." Then
with a sudden feverish impulse, leaned forward, and stroking back the
waving locks from Paula's brow, exclaimed hurriedly, "You look like her,
you have the same dark hair and wonderful eyes, more beautiful perhaps,
but like her, O so like her! That is why I made such a mistake." She
shuddered, with a quick low sob, but instantly subdued her emotion and
taking Paula's hand in hers continued, "You are young, my daughter;
youth does not enjoy carrying burdens; can I, a stranger ask you to
assist me with mine?"

"You may," returned Paula. "If it will give you any relief I will help
you bear it willingly."

"You will! Has heaven then sent me the aid my failing spirits demand?
Can I count on you, child? But I will ask for no promise till you have
heard my story. To no one have I ever imparted the secret of my life,
but from the first moment I saw your fair young face, I felt that
through you would come my help, if help ever came to make my final
moments easier and my last days less bitter." And rising up, she led
Paula to a door which she solemnly opened. "I am glad that you are
here," said she. "I could never have asked you to come, but since you
have braved the dead and crossed this threshold, you must see and know
the whole. You will understand my story better."

Taking her through a dark passage, she threw wide another door, and the
parlors of the vanished Japhas opened before them. It was a ghostly
vision. A weird twilight scene of clustered shadows brooding above
articles of musty grandeur. In spite of the self-command learned by her
late experie