disturb them. At last, not without some misgiving, she opened the door gently, and hesitated in the doorway for a moment, before she entered.
He was standing erect beside her bed. Two wasted hands were in his strong hands, and the light of the lamp fell on them. The pale, sharp-outlined face, red beard, and close-cut hair were in shadow. He turned his head at the sound of the opening door.
"She wants you," he said, in a low voice.
Elizabeth came to him: they stood side by side. The dying woman dropped one of his hands, and took Elizabeth's. Her voice was very faint, but she spoke distinctly.
"Ally—you have told me—you will never love any other woman than this. Is it true?"
"It is. Let that satisfy you, my dear," he replied, in a low, choked voice.
"And you,—Lizzie—do you love my brother? If so, let me see you—clasp hands—before I go. Then—I shall die—happy."
Before she could answer, be broke in, with a voice that struggled to be calm—
"No—no!—It is not right, at such a moment as this, to extract a promise from Elizabeth. No! Hatty. Let it be enough for you, dear, to know that hereafter, whether she and I are parted or not———"
"If we are parted," interrupted Elizabeth, with a sudden audacity, born of excitement—"it shall not be my fault. I love him, and I ask him now to be my husband. I ask him to promise me this, by vows as binding as any man ever took. And I declare to you
