the almost involuntary raising the hand to the
region of the heart, the passing pallor of the face. Had they seen none
of those things? Had they no wild, despairing thoughts about him? Was it
possible they could go peacefully to sleep with this dread thing hanging
over them, with a chance of awaking to a day of bitter anguish and
wild, heart-broken farewell? This cruel anxiety, kept all to herself,
was killing the girl. She grew restless and feverish; sometimes she sat
up half the night at the window listening to the moaning of the dark sea
outside; she became languid during the day, pale, and distraite. But it
was not to last long.

One evening these two were together in the small parlor, he lying down,
she sitting near him with a book in her hand. The French windows were
open; they could hear Mrs. Warrener and her daughter talking in the
garden. And, strangely enough, the sick man's thoughts were once more
turned to the far Highlands, and to their life among the hills, and the
pleasant merry-making on board the Sea Pyot.

"The air of this place does not agree with you at all, Violet," he was
saying. "You are not looking nearly so well as you did when we came
down. You are the only one who has not benefited by the change. Now that
won't do; we cannot have a succession of invalids--a Greek frieze of
patients, all carrying phials of medicine. We must get off to the
Highlands at once. What do you say--a fortnight hence?"

She knelt down beside him, and took his hand, and said in a low voice--

"Do not be angry with me--it is very unreasonable, I know--but I have a
strange dread of the Highlands. I have dreamed so often lately of being
up there--and of being swept away on a dark sea--in the middle of the
night."

She shuddered. He put his hand gently on her head.

"There is no wonder you should dream of that," he said with a smile.
"That is only part of the story which you made us all believe. But we
have got a brighter finish for it now. You have not been overwhelmed in
that dark flood yet----"

He paused.

"Violet! My love!" he suddenly cried.

He let go her hand, and made a wild grasp at his left breast; his face
grew white with pain. What made her instinctively throw her arms round
him, with terror in her eyes?

"Violet! What is this? Kiss me!"

It was but one second after that that a piercing shriek rang through the
place. The girl had sprung up like a deer shot through the heart; her
eyes dilated, her f