where Bessie lay it was the holy Sabbath time, and, save when by the opening of some door across the hall a strain of music or shout of merriment was borne to their ears, they would never have guessed what was passing.  The fever had burned itself out on Bessie’s cheeks and left them colorless as marble; while in her eyes, so large and heavy with restlessness and pain, there was a look of recognition, and on the pale lips a smile for those around her.  She had known them all since the early morning, when, awaking from a heavy sleep, she called her mother by name, and asked where she was and what had happened to her.

The last three weeks had been a blank, and they broke it to her gradually, and told her of Grey Jerrold’s presence, and how she had mistaken him for Neil, from whom they had that day heard, and who would be with them on Monday.  It was Flossie who told Bessie this last, as she kissed the white forehead, and said through her tears: 

“I am so glad to see you better; it nearly broke my heart when I thought that you might die—­and Mr. Jerrold, too, I am sure would have died if you had.  Oh, Bessie, I never saw this Neil, but he can not be as nice as Mr. Jerrold, who, next to Sir Jack, is the best man in the world.”

“Hush, Flossie!” Bessie whispered, for she had not strength to speak aloud, “such things are over with me now.  I shall never see Sir Jack again; never see Neil, for when he comes to-morrow I shall not be here.”

“Oh, Bessie,” Flossie cried, with a great gush of tears; but Bessie motioned her to be silent, and went on: 

“Tell Sir Jack that I might have loved him had I seen him first, but it will not matter soon whom I have loved, or who has loved me.  Tell Neil, when he comes and stands beside me, and I cannot speak to him, that I loved him to the last, and if I had lived I would have been his wife whenever he wished it; but it is better to die, for perhaps I could not have borne the burden and the care again.  I am so tired, and the rest beyond the grave looks very sweet to me.  You say Mr. Jerrold is here.  I should like to see him and thank him for his kindness.”

Grey had not been to the room that morning, but he soon came and was admitted to Bessie’s presence.  Smiling sweetly upon him as he came in, Bessie said: 

“I cannot offer you my hand, for I have no power to move it; the life has all gone from me—­see,” and she tried in vain to lift one of the thin, transparent hands which lay so helplessly just where Flossie had put them.

“Don’t try,” Grey said, sitting down beside her, and placing one of his own broad, warm palms upon the little hands, as if he would thus communicate to them some of his own strength and vitality.  “I am glad to find you better,” he continued; but Bessie shook her head and answered him: