“It will all come out anyway if she lives,” he said, and so the cruel scissors had severed the long, bright tresses which had been Bessie’s crowning glory.

But the hair, which had only been cut short, grew rapidly and lay in little curls all over her head making her look more like a child than a girl of nineteen.

Flossie knew it was Grey’s farewell, and guessed that he would rather be alone with Bessie, even though she were sleeping.  So she arose, and offering him her chair, stole softly out and closed the door behind her.

For a few moments Grey sat gazing intently upon the beautiful face as if he would stamp its image upon his heart, so that whatever came, whether for weal or woe, he should never forget it; and then he prayed fervently, that, if possible, God would give back the life now ebbing so low, and that he yet might win the prize he longed for so ardently.

“Oh, Bessie, poor, little tired Bessie,” he whispered, as he gently touched one of the hands near him; “if I might call you mine, might take you to my home across the sea, how happy I would make you.  I cannot let you die just as I know how much I love you, and something tells me you will yet be mine.  We should all love you so much, my mother, Aunt Lucy, Aunt Hannah, and all.”

And then suddenly, as his mind leaped to the future, Grey seemed to see the old farm-house in the rocky pasture-land far away, and Bessie was there with him, sitting just where he had so often sat when a child, on the little bench in the wood-shed close against the wall, beyond which was that hidden grave whose shadow had, in a way, darkened his whole life.  And it fell upon him now with an added blackness as he thought: 

“Could I take Bessie and not tell her of that grave?  I don’t know; but God will help me to do right, and all things will seem possible if He gives Bessie to me.”

She was breathing a little more heavily now; she might be waking; he must kiss her good-by before she was conscious of the act, and bending over her he kissed her forehead and lips and cheeks, on which his hot tears fell fast.

“Good-by, my darling,” he whispered.  “In this world you may never know how much I love you, but in the next, perhaps, I may be permitted to tell you how it broke my heart to see you lying so low and to know that I must leave you.  Darling Bessie, good-by;” and with another kiss upon her lips he lifted up his head to meet the wondering gaze of the blue eyes, in which for an instant there was a puzzled, startled expression, then they filled with tears, and Bessie’s lips quivered as she said: 

“Don’t, Mr. Jerrold, such words are not for me.  I—­don’t you know?”

She hesitated a moment, and he said: 

“I know nothing except that I love you with my whole heart and soul, and whether you live or die you will be the sweetest memory of my life.  Don’t talk; it is not necessary,” he continued rapidly, as he saw her about to speak.  “I am not going to trouble you now; you are too weak for that.  I am here to say good-by, for I must leave to-morrow; but in the future, when you are well, as something tells me you will be—­”