ioness. Oh, sweet Anne--weak!"

"'Twas love," Anne whispered. "Your love was strong, and so was mine.
That other love was not for me. I knew that my long woman's life would
pass without it--for woman's life is long, alas! if love comes not. But
you were love's self, and I worshipped you and it; and to myself I
said--praying forgiveness on my knees--that one woman should know love if
I did not. And being so poor and imperfect a thing, what mattered if I
gave my soul for you--and love, which is so great, and rules the world.
Look at the doves, sister, look at them, flying past the heavenly
blueness--and she said I did no wrong."

Her hand was wet with tears fallen upon it, as her duchess sister knelt,
and held and kissed it, sobbing.

"You knew, poor love, you knew!" she cried.

"Ay, all of it I knew," Anne said--"his torture of you and the madness of
your horror. And when he forced himself within the Panelled Parlour that
day of fate, I knew he came to strike some deadly blow; and in such
anguish I waited in my chamber for the end, that when it came not, I
crept down, praying that somehow I might come between--and I went in the
room!"

"And there--what saw you?" quoth the duchess, shuddering. "Somewhat you
must have seen, or you could not have known."

"Ay," said Anne, "and heard!" and her chest heaved.

"Heard!" cried Clorinda. "Great God of mercy!"

"The room was empty, and I stood alone. It was so still I was afraid; it
seemed so like the silence of the grave; and then there came a sound--a
long and shuddering breath--but one--and then--"

The memory brought itself too keenly back, and she fell a-shivering.

"I heard a slipping sound, and a dead hand fell on the floor-lying
outstretched, its palm turned upwards, showing beneath the valance of the
couch."

She threw her frail arms round her sister's neck, and as Clorinda clasped
her own, breathing gaspingly, they swayed together.

"What did you then?" the duchess cried, in a wild whisper.

"I prayed God keep me sane--and knelt--and looked below. I thrust it
back--the dead hand, saying aloud, 'Swoon you must not, swoon you must
not, swoon you shall not--God help! God help!'--and I saw!--the purple
mark--his eyes upturned--his fair curls spread; and I lost strength and
fell upon my side, and for a minute lay there--knowing that shudder of
breath had been the very last expelling of his being, and his hand had
fallen by its own weight."

"O God!