something brought her nearer to that stranger by her side.
“My appointed time, too, will soon come,” he added, firmly, but more to himself.
“But you have not coughed yet,” she consoled him.
“What is not, that may . . .” his hand suddenly grasped hers. She drew back in surprise, and looked at him, but immediately caught him up with her other hand. A sudden weakness overcame him, a pale mist lay over his eyes, his face looked ghastly white in the green shade, and he breathed heavily and with effort. She looked at him in fright: all of a sudden an infinite pity took possession of her,—pity? . . . She took his head in her hands, kissed his brow, held it, and tenderly passed her fingers through his hair. . . . At that moment there was a din in her breast, as if a broad torrent were pouring through it; an intoxicating weakness fell upon her head, her eyes, and her
