"How can you talk of such a thing, my dear Jessie?" he said, reproachfully. "You pain me beyond measure."
"You will give me that promise, will you not, Jack?" she pleaded. "The pangs of death will be easier to bear if my mind is but at rest on that subject."
"You are going to get well soon, and the ceremony will take place as we have arranged," he said, soothingly; but she shook her head.
"If I should not, Jack," she whispered, fixing her burning eyes wistfully on his face, "let me have the assurance from your lips that you will never, never put another in my place."
"If it will settle any doubts in your mind, I give you the promise that you ask," he answered, in a low, grave voice; and it was worth that promise to see the girl's pale face light up with a swift flush of joy.
"Oh, thank you—thank you, Jack!" she sobbed.
At that moment a strange incident was taking place in Dorothy's room.
Almost thoroughly exhausted with night-watching, Dorothy had fallen asleep in a chair, in which she had sat down for a few moments' rest.
Was it only a vision? she wondered, or did she hear some one call her name softly: "Dorothy! Dorothy!"
She turned her head quickly, but she could see no one, although some one was whispering: