myself sink back into my lover's arms, and memory became a
blank. I had fainted.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ONE DAY'S RESPITE

The sun has risen upon the last day which I shall spend on earth; and I
sit down calmly to write all that happened to me yesterday, and my
reason for the step which I am about to take.

It is a fair still morning, and the birds are singing gaily in the
grove. My window is open, and the early freshness of the autumnal air is
filling the room. For hours I have been on my bed there, hot and
restless, praying for the dawn, that I might carry out my purpose; and
as soon as the first faint gleam of light in the east broke through the
dark night clouds, I arose and bathed my eyes and sat down here to wait.
I have watched the sun rise up from the ocean, slowly gathering strength
until its first quivering beams glanced across the dull gray sea, and
even penetrated into my chamber. And with the dawn has come peace. I sit
here calm and prepared for the trial to come.

It was the evening before yesterday when I saw my uncle's face pressed
against the window pane, and fainted with the shock. Early on the
following morning a note from him was brought up to me, having been left
by a messenger from the village. Here it is:--

* * * * *

"MY BELOVED MARGHARITA,--Many a time have I reproached myself for my
imprudence last night, and the effects which I fear it had upon you. It
was thoughtless and rash of me to come near the house at all; but,
indeed, I meant only to watch from a safe distance; only, as I crouched
behind a shrub upon the lawn, I saw her face, and the sight drew me
nearer against my better judgment. I met your eyes, and I knew that you
were overcome with fright; but I feared to linger lest they might ask
what it was that alarmed you, and seek for me. And although I fancy that
I am altered past recognition, yet I would run no risks.

"I, too, had a great surprise, Margharita. You will not wonder what I
mean by that when I tell you that in the light which streamed from the
uncurtained window everything in the room was distinctly visible to me.
Was I dreaming, child, or were you indeed assenting to the embrace of
the man whose arms were surely around you? Him, I could not see, for his
back was turned to the window; but will you laugh at me, I wonder, if I
tell you that I felt strangely jealous of him. I am a foolish old man,
Margharita, but all the love of my hea