n foolhardy to try to see her. He,
however, had determined to see her once more before he left, but as it
could, in all probability, be only once, he was reserving the meeting
until the last, and had written Mary that it was their best and only
chance.

This brought to Mary a stinging realization of the fact that Brandon
was about to leave her and that she would lose him if something were
not done quickly. Now for Mary, after a life of gratified whims, to
lose the very thing she wanted most of all--that for which she would
willingly have given up every other desire her heart had ever
coined--was a thought hardly to be endured. She felt that the world
would surely collapse. It could not, would not, should not be.

Her vigorous young nerves were too strong to be benumbed by an
overwhelming agony, as is sometimes the case with those who are
fortunate enough to be weaker, so she had to suffer and endure. Life
itself, yes, life a thousand times, was slipping away from her. She
must be doing something or she would perish. Poor Mary! How a grand
soul like hers, full of faults and weakness, can suffer! What an
infinite disproportion between her susceptibility to pain and her
power to combat it! She had the maximum capacity for one and the
minimum strength for the other. No wonder it drove her almost
mad--that excruciating pang of love.

She could not endure inaction, so she did the worst thing possible.
She went alone, one afternoon, just before dusk, to see Brandon at our
rooms. I was not there when she first went in, but, having seen her on
the way, suspected something and followed, arriving two or three
minutes after her. I knew it was best that I should be present, and
was sure Brandon would wish it. When I entered they were holding each
other's hands, in silence. They had not yet found their tongues, so
full and crowded were their hearts. It was pathetic to see them,
especially the girl, who had not Brandon's hopelessness to deaden the
pain by partial resignation.

Upon my entrance, she dropped his hands and turned quickly toward me
with a frightened look, but was reassured upon seeing who it was.
Brandon mechanically walked away from her and seated himself on a
stool. Mary, as mechanically, moved to his side and placed her hand on
his shoulder. Turning her face toward me, she said: "Sir Edwin, I know
you will forgive me when I tell you that we have a great deal to say
and wish to be alone."

I was about to go when