I dreamed that I was she." "Who ?" "Your wife--" "Blanche!" "Kiss me, brother--I am going--rapidly going." He entwined his arms about the being who, for fifteen years, had been his only companion, and pressed his lips to hers.
"Blanche, Blanche, you must not die; for my sake live." "No, no; I will soon be gone; then you will be all alone.

Don't leave me until all is over." "I shall not, Blanche; I shall not," cried Stevens, holding her tightly clasped in his strong arms.
"It may be wrong--but we have been here so long--meet me in heaven, brother." "God grant that I may, poor girl." "Pray with me." He knelt at her side, and the lips of both moved in prayer.

When he rose, she laid her little hand, all purple with fever, in his and said: "Brother--when I am gone, bury me in that beautiful valley near the spring, where the wild flowers grow close by the white stone.

On the stone write: 'Here lies my beloved sister, Blanche Holmes.'" An hour later John Stevens knelt beside a corpse.

The gentle spirit had flown.
Midnight--and the castaway, despairing, half-crazed with grief, still knelt by the dead body, tearing his hair, and groaning: "Alone--left alone!".