Then she leant over him, and watched his sleeping face, a very incarnation of infinite, despairing tenderness, and love that is deeper than the grave.

And as she watched, gradually her feet and legs grew cold and numb, till at length she could feel nothing below her bosom.

She was dead nearly to the heart.

Well, it was better so! The rays of the moon faded slowly from the level of the little cave, and John's face grew dark to her darkening sight.

She bent down and kissed him once--twice--thrice.
At last the end came.