“I have no gloomy forebodings, no apprehension of the future, and generally no depressed spirits; but I know full well that my life is gradually wasting away, slowly, gently, and almost without pain, I am sinking to an early tomb.  Yet I would not have it otherwise if I could.  Death has long lost all terrors for me; I have no fear—­all is peace and quiet.  I am paining you.  Forgive me, Dr. Bryant; but knowing that you and Florry were anxious about me, I thought it best to tell you that I am fully aware of my danger, if so I can term what I would not avert.”

A shudder crept over the strong man as he looked down at the calm, colorless face of her who spoke so quietly of death, and of quitting forever the scenes she loved so truly.

“I cannot—­will not believe you are so ill.  You will grow stronger when we leave this place, and a year hence, when quite well again, you will beg pardon for the pain you have given me.”

A faint smile played round the thin lips, and in silence they proceeded to Mrs. Carlton’s.

CHAPTER XXIV.

  “Who’s here besides foul weather?”

  SHAKESPEARE.

Far away stretched the prairie, bounded, ocean-like, only by the horizon; the monotony occasionally relieved by clumps of aged live oaks, which tossed their branches to and fro in summer breezes and in wintry blasts, and lent a mournful cadence to the howlings of the tempest.  Now and then a herd of deer, lifting proudly their antlered heads, seemed to scorn danger from the hand of man, as they roamed so freely over the wide, desolate waste which possessed no visible limits.  And groups of cattle, starting at the slightest sound, tossed their horns in defiance, and browsed along the mosquit, in many places so luxuriant as well-nigh to conceal their forms.  The day had been unusually warm for January, and the sun beamed down with a sickening intensity which made the blood tingle in the veins.  Toward noon the sky assumed a dull, leaden cast, and light flakes of cloud, like harbingers of evil, scudded ominously overhead.  The sun passed the zenith, and a low sighing breeze swept moaningly across the wide waste, even as the wail of lost spirits floats out on the midnight air, and then is hushed forever.

The cattle that stood leisurely cropping about, and now and then moving a few paces, lifted their heads, snuffed the air, and, with a simultaneous lowing, started at full speed to the timbered tracts, where they were wont to resort for shelter from the winds of winter.  On, on they rushed, till in the distance one might fancy them a quantity of beetles, or other insects, dotting the surface before them.  Soon not a vestige remained of the flying herd, and happy it was for them they made good their retreat, and gained a place of refuge ere the “norther” burst in all its keenness on the unprotected plain.  Wildly the piercing blasts whistled through the trees,