His words frightened me; for how could I ever fulfill his expectations?  He read my face.

“Are you sure, Medoline, you love me as I want to be loved by my wife?  Have you gained your woman’s heart with its full capacity for love or suffering, or are you still only a child?”

“I could die for you, Mr. Winthrop, if it were for your good; I do not ask for anything better than to be near you always in time and eternity.”

“Since how long have you regarded me in this way, Medoline?”

“You remember that long night holding my hand, when I was at the worst of the fever?  I saw everything clearly then.  My spirit seemed to get away from the body, or very nearly so, and looked on things as it had never done before.”

“Did you wonder after that why I left you so abruptly?”

“For a long time I thought you were still at Oaklands.  Every day I used to hope you might come, or send me a message.”

“You shall never be so left again till death separates us.”

“If you cared for me then, why did you leave me?” I asked timidly.

“If I cared for you then, Medoline!  Why don’t you ask me when first I began to love you?”

“I did not think to ask.”

“Do you remember that day in the autumn when you had the Mill Road people here?”

“Yes.”

“You came to me, if you remember, with the widow Larkum’s baby in your arms, a very timid, and beseeching look on your face at the same time.”

I nodded in reply.

“My heart went out to you then and there, as it never did to any woman.  I had been fascinated and amused with your ways before that.  How I have waited and hoped since then to see you turn to me with the love-light in your eyes!  Fear lest I might lose my self-restraint and speak too soon, drove me from you—­fear lest some other man would win what I so passionately craved has brought me back.  Darling, you have made this the happiest day of my life.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

The end.

I never saw Mrs. Le Grande again alive.  The following morning I made my confession to Mr. Winthrop, and got his consent to continue my visits to the sick room, at Rose Cottage, until recovery or death should take place.  My one anxiety as I walked along the field and woodland that day, was lest my face might reveal to her keen vision the gladness that thrilled all my pulses.  I did not wait to ring the bell but went directly to her rooms.  The parlor door was closed; when I opened it, at the farther end of the room I was startled to see a white-robed form lying on one of the sofas.

I hesitated with sudden fear, but finally summoning all my resolution I crossed the room and stood beside the clay-cold form of Mrs. Le Grande.  The nurse who was in the adjoining room came to my side and after a few seconds’ silence she said, gently: