Mary's head still rested on the bosom of Herbert, her hand clasped his.

Evening was darkening into twilight, or the expression of her countenance might have been remarked as changed--more spiritual, as if the earthly shell had shared the beatified glory of the departing spirit.

She fixed her fading eyes on Ellen, who was kneeling by her couch, steadily and calmly, but Ellen saw her not, for in that hour her eyes were fixed, as in fascination on the form of Herbert, as he bent over his beloved.

The dying girl saw that mournful glance, and a gleam of intelligence passed over her beautiful features.

She extended one hand to Ellen, who clasped it fondly, and then she tried to draw it towards Herbert.